


Danse Macabre

by RareAvian



Series: Hydra Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Care of Magical Creatures, Family, Female Harry Potter, Friendship, Gellert becomes a reluctant guardian, Gen, Hadria has a 200+ year old soul, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Humor, Ignores Fantastic Beasts Movie, Master of Death Harry Potter, Time Travel, but a 10 year old mind, by the way there are two Gellerts in existence now, let's collect dark creatures like pokemon gotta catch em all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 65,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9841367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RareAvian/pseuds/RareAvian
Summary: "... The last glimpse of sunset, a green flash shoots up into the sky... Some say—""It signals when a soul comes back to this world from the dead."—POTC quote.The Higher Entities end up letting three souls have a second chance at life. One flash of green light the colour of death. Three souls return to the Living. History is rewritten. And Fate laughs.Or...The one story where Gellert Grindelwald takes a leaf out of Gru's book and adopts a kid despite being a former Dark Lord with no parenting skills whatsoever... And of course the kid is none other than Hadria Potter, who unintentionally drives him up the wall for all of three years. (After those three years, a number of people are driven up the wall, including Gellert, and it's totally intentional by now).





	1. Parole

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**Chapter One: Parole**

* * *

_"Alea iacta est." The die has been cast. — Julius Caesar_

* * *

An island floated high above the dark Abyss, enveloped in a shimmering sphere that swirled with iridescent magic like a bubble. The sphere was in fact, the only thing with colour in that place. The sky was pale grey, colorless, like a cold winter morning, and the Abyss below was a sea of black shadows. The island itself was dark gray like ash, its plants were black and the building built from the island—a castle with towers and turrets stretching to the sky like skeletal hands—was white as bone.

Within the building, in the Court of Hell, a gathering of seven robed figures sat in a circle on raised platforms, looking down at their latest Special Case. The room was neither big nor small, its size had no value in a place like this, but there was something about its structure that made the Criminal standing in the centre feel claustrophobic despite the sense he got that the room was too vast, too wide, too open, as if it were just him in a white endless desert, the presence of the Seven Judges meaningless.

The Seven wore robes as white as snow, with hoods over their heads and skeletal masks hiding their faces. Death had a raven skull mask, while Fate's skeletal mask was that of a ram. Luck wore the mask of a young stag. Chaos's mask was the skull of saber-toothed tiger, and Change's was snake skull. Time covered his face with a dragon skull while Magic wore her owl skull mask.

Life was not present, for she waited outside the Courtroom, wearing robes black as the night, with a simple golden mask in place. A fiery iridescent phoenix design danced across her black robes as she stood patiently for the session to end.

Gellert Grindelwald wasn't sure if he was fortunate or not. He fidgeted in the centre of the Courtroom, as Fate read out his offences and the punishment he was to receive for them. He had already finished one and a half out of the three years he was to spend in the lowest levels of Hell. It sounded like a short time, but all who went into Hell knew that a day in Real time was equivalent to a decade in one's mind when one was in the Ninth or Tenth Districts of Hell. Grindelwald had been quite convinced he had spent almost 50 decades in ice and fire when They brought him out. He still didn't know why. And the Judges weren't acting professional at all.

"... For dabbling in the Forbidden Arts, another year in—"

"Keeping in mind that the Forbidden Arts here do not mean the same thing as the misunderstood Dark Magic in your world. We're talking about truly Forbidden Magic here, magic that goes against the Great Laws, such as Death Magic. And I would know," Magic interrupted.

"Of course you would. But really, I approve of your attempts at creating an Undead army with Death's Temptation. Nothing better than an army of possessed corpses to—"

"Chaos! You're not supposed to encourage him!"

"Hey, at least he didn't mess with Soul Magic, right? I mean, look at that Idiot."

"Which Idiot?"

"Oh. You mean  _The_  Idiot?"

"Which other Idiot was stupid enough to split his soul eight times and get all of the pieces destroyed before he could put himself together? Even the Train to the Tenth District couldn't bring him to have his soul reforged. "

"Technically, the destruction of his soul pieces wasn't his fault. Hey Death, wasn't it that girl of yours who did most of it?"

"She's not a 'girl of mine'. She's my Master."

"Poor Death. One of his Favorites in Limbo, the other stuck in the Living world unable to truly die, and this last one here in Court because  _someone_  couldn't stand—"

"How is everything  _my_  fault? This wouldn't have happened if Magic didn't favor the three of them along with Death!"

"You were the one who dumped that Prophesy unto that Trelawney Seer. And weren't you the one who wanted to get a kick out of throwing a soul who hasn't finished rehabilitation back into the Living? And don't forget The Idiot and Death's Master were  _your_  Favorites as well."

"You're one to talk, Change. The Idiot wasn't supposed to Mark the Girl with a soul piece!"

"Can we get back to the topic at hand? I don't want to spend another week in here like that last time."

Gellert Grindelwald sighed. On one hand, the Judges were acting like immature teenagers, on the other hand, they exuded this aura that made you feel very very small and insignificant.

"Right. Let's cut this whole damn thing short. Life is waiting outside already," Death said and took the parchment that Fate was reading from. "Gellert Grindelwald, it has been decided that since you have been favored by Magic, Chaos, Luck, and recently, Fate..."

"Not to mention Death, who favored you after his Invitation took a liking to you. Of course, you'll only be third best since second best goes to The Idiot and his ultimate favorite is the Girl-Who-Lives," Chaos happily added. Death scowled at him, though the mask covered his expression.

"Anyway, you have been given a second chance at life, on some conditions, since Fate wanted to try releasing you before your time in Hell was up. The conditions are as follows: No killing anyone in the first three years of your new life. No dabbling in magic that Magic considers Dark—she'll give you a list later. No interacting with your other self should you meet him, unless you're under the disguise of someone else. Last but not least, we may hand you a Task later on. You may choose to accept the Task or not. Not accepting the Task simply means that when you die again, you'll be spending five days in Real time in the Fourth District of Hell, which is equivalent to five weeks in your mind. Nothing too severe. Just a bit of Nothing. No fire, no ice or even water."

What wasn't said was that Nothingness was almost as bad as Water. Grindelwald had heard of horror stories of days spent in Nothing. And the thing about horror stories shared in here was that they were 99% truly horrifying, if not an understatement.

"Any questions?"

Grindelwald thought about it. Speaking to Death was not a very appealing idea, especially when at the mercy of his whims but...

"What do you mean by 'other self'?" he asked, then added "Sir?" as a polite afterthought.

"We'll most likely be returning you to a time when your past self is still alive." It was Time who replied. "Do you have any particular time period you'd prefer to be placed in?"

Grindelwald didn't hesitate when he said, "After Voldemort's first demise."

"October 31st, 1981. Sounds good. With Samhain in full swing, the release of magical power upon the Idiot's death due to the backlash of the Killing Curse, and the Fulfillment of the first half of the Prophecy, it would be next to nothing to return him to life," Change commented. "He won't even need to be reborned. The energy of the amount of Soul Magic present on that night would be sufficient to return him to the Living in the body of his adult self."

"But in that case, an Alternate Reality would be created, since this would change the outcome of what has already occurred," Fate observed.

Change grinned. "Precisely. We've already prepared for the probability of this happening anyway."

"Well then. I guess that settles it," Fate said, looking at Grindelwald. "Gellert Grindelwald, we hereby release you from the imprisonment of Hell. You will be given a second chance in life, under the conditions that we have mentioned... Not that you can decline this since I'm not going to allow you that choice. Life will provide you with your body and return you to the Living. Guards, escort him out."

Two Dementors appeared and led him to the huge double doors at one side of the room. The cold they exuded was still present, despite the fact that he had no physical nerves. All sensations that could be possible to experience in this place affected the soul, not the body.

Life met him outside the Courtroom, and led him down a white hallway as the Dementors fled the moment their job was done. They couldn't seem to stand her presence.

As the Courtroom doors closed behind them, Grindelwald thought he heard Change saying, "He's gone! Finally! Chaos, grab some wine. We're going to Limbo for a party."

* * *


	2. Four Years of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Gellert Grindelwald is given a second chance and enjoys his freedom from Hell until... well, until everything changes due to unforeseen circumstances... which go by the name of Potter.

**Chapter Two: Four Years of Freedom**

* * *

_"Malum consilium quod mutari non potest." It's a bad plan that can't be changed._ — Latin Proverb

* * *

When Gellert Grindelwald was told he would be returned to the Living world, he wasn't sure what to expect. He definitely didn't think he'd find himself lying in the middle of a dark forest in some remote part of west England, with a herd of Thestrals surrounding him. The herd of Thestrals left when they saw that he had regained consciousness, though one large Thestral, a mare, remained.

When Grindelwald decided to take note of what he had with him, he found a piece of parchment folded into a crane-like shape, in one the pockets of the black trench coat he discovered he was wearing. Upon unfolding the parchment, he realised it was a list of the Dark (Forbidden) Magic he was not to perform, under which was a note that said that the Thestral before him was a gift from Change and Chaos.

So Grindelwald named the winged horse ' _Nacht_ ', which meant Night in German, the language of his half-blood mother, and rode the Thestral to Hungary, his pureblood father's country.

Grindelwald spent his first year back in the land of the Living sorting out his assets. The goblins were neutral to the affairs of wizards unless gold is involved, as always, and though they treaded carefully around him, they made no attempts to contact any wizards about the return of one Gellert Grindelwald who was supposed to be imprisoned in Nurmengard.

Grindelwald was a feared wizard after all, and though goblins didn't view wizards as superior to them, they were still wary of him. Not to mention the fact that he had a lot of gold, and was unerringly polite, having learnt that it was the best way to deal with goblins. So the Wizarding world was none the wiser, when Grindelwald's Hungarian and German Gringotts accounts were unfrozen, his manor's ownership returned to him and his Lordship in Germany reinstated. Grindelwald then created a false identity for himself with some help from old contacts who were sworn into secrecy, created new Gringotts accounts in both Britain and Germany in their respective bank offices, and made sure that anyone who met him or interacted with him would, in the worst case scenario, think that he was Grindelwald's heir instead of Grindelwald himself. It definitely helped that he was twenty-seven years old, and anyone who thought that this charming young man was a former Dark Lord had to be crazy. After all, Grindelwald was supposed to be a hundred years old and rotting in the very prison he made for his enemies.

In any case, Grindelwald wasn't too worried about his reappearance in the Wizarding world. He had no intention of joining politics or declaring war on Muggles or doing anything really Dark-Lord-ish. At least, not yet. He spent the next year in Norway and Ireland, before moving to France and Italy in the third year, before visiting the Middle East in his fourth, learning all he could about magic, both Light and Dark (though he was careful not to go near any sort of magic mentioned on Magic's Forbidden List, especially when he realised the Higher Entities had not mentioned the consequences of going against the conditions of his release).

The fifth year found Grindelwald in Russia, studying about the hags and fey-folk there, when the Gringott's London office Owled him about the meddling of one Albus Dumbledore. Two years ago, Grindelwald had paid the goblins with a large sum of gold to help him keep an eye on the activities of Dumbledore in Gringotts, and to send him a report if anything major happened. As it was, the goblins had informed him that the wizard had just recently arranged with another wizard to have a priceless object moved to a different vault, one of higher security.

Thus, Grindelwald flooed to England, deciding to take the opportunity to see how much has changed in Diagon Alley since the temporary fall of Lord Voldemort. After stopping by several shops, and a detour into Knockturn Alley, he made his way to the Gringotts bank. There, he was told that the item that had been moved was a secret, and they would not tell it was, except that it involved Dumbledore and the Flamels. When Grindelwald realised that they were probably talking about the Philosopher's Stone, he lost most of his interest and left. After all, his aim was to find the Resurrection Stone, a far better treasure than the Philosopher's Stone, in his opinion. Well, his aim was also to retrieve his Elder Wand from Dumbledore but that would have to wait. The second wand he procured from Ollivander (his original wand, the one he had before gaining the Elder Wand, had been lost—another word for forgetting where he had kept it) was serving him quite well for the moment.

Later that night, Grindelwald took a leisurely stroll in the Wyldewoods near Godric's Hollow, for it was Lughnasadh and he was idly hoping to catch a glimpse of any fey-folk celebrating the festival, for a hag had told him he might find some there. And while he did not encounter any fae, he did find himself staring blankly at a little girl who seemed to have lost herself in the magical forest sometime after midnight, and interrupted all his grand plans of travelling the rest of the world and study his beloved magic without a burden—the sort of burden that comes with wars, politics, reputations, responsibility, and past mistakes.

At first, the wizard thought she might be a fae. She certainly looked the part, with long raven black hair and unnaturally bright emerald green eyes that reminded him of the Killing Curse. She was a skinny waif, and wore a patchwork dress that looked like it might have been sewn by herself. But it was her face that was the strangest, for she was frowning at him and would have looked extremely cute if not for those green eyes of hers that if Grindelwald didn't know better, could have been Basilisk eyes staring him to death. But Basilisk eyes were yellow, had slitted pupils and belonged in the head of a giant snake, not a little girl who couldn't have been more than four years old.

"Hello Mister, are you, by any chance, my kidnapper?"

Grindelwald stared. He didn't think he was the kidnapping sort, not even when he was a Dark Lord. He certainly didn't kidnap  _children_.

"No..." he said slowly. "Why?"

The girl relaxed, much to his bemusement. Surely she did not believe him just like that? Especially if she had just been kidnapped?

"Oh good," the girl said, looking around. "Y'see, today's my birthday. I was counting down to midnight as usual y'know, an' was wishing for someone to take me away, since it's my birthday, an' jus' 'cuz I don't have a cake or even a candle, doesn't mean I can't have one? Then there was a loud pop, or a crack, I dunno, but I felt like someone stuffed me into a small pipe? 'Bit like the time I jumped from the ground to the roof, y'know. An' then I'm here. But I dunno where here is an' how can I jump from my room to a place I dunno? So maybe someone, I dunno, summoned me, with some um, blood an' salt maybe? An' brimstone an' a chalk circle with the star thingie an'—Are you the one who summoned me?"

Grindelwald wasn't quite sure how to respond to  _that._  The girl was becoming even stranger than he thought possible, and he wasn't even thinking about her speech and vocabulary.

"In order for anyone to summon you in a ritual like that, you'd have to be some sort of demon or spirit first," Grindelwald finally said, deciding not to add that even then, most demons or spirits could not be summoned like that, and those that one  _could_  summon… Well, Grindelwald still had  _nightmares_  from that one time he tried.

((One does not simply summon a  _Drude,_ Dark Lord or not.))

Meanwhile, the girl slowly blinked. "Well, Uncle Vernon says I'm the spawn of the Devil, so maybe I am?"

Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. "I somehow doubt it. Who is this Uncle Vernon?"

"Vernon Dursley. He works at a drill firm called Grunnings," the girl said, recalling how her Aunt sometimes introduced her husband.

A drill, Grindelwald understood, was a mainly Muggle contraption. And Dursley was almost certainly a Muggle surname.

"What sort of devilry have you done, then?" But Grindelwald had his suspicions. Though Apparition seemed rather advanced for accidental magic.

"Well, there's the time I jumped onto the roof. An' then the time that my hair grew back longer than before after Aunt Petunia cut 'em all off with a pair of shears. Then there was once I played with a black doggie an' Dudley said there was nothin' there."

Apparition. Accelerated hair growth. Imaginary black dog? That didn't seem quite right, Grindelwald thought. Perhaps it was just an imaginary black dog. Or even Shadow Magic, if the kid was already capable of accidental Apparition.

"Who's Dudley?"

"My cousin. But he seems to look more an' more like a baby whale as the days pass."

Grindelwald hoped she didn't actually accidentally transfigure her cousin into a whale. Then again, that would be rather hilarious. And the tone of voice she used to she talked about them, it sounded like her relatives were a few of the worst sort of Muggles one could meet if one were muggleborn Witch or Wizard. Which reminded Grindelwald that he ought to return to his original plan of world domination once he was satisfied with his knowledge of magic.

"What about your parents?" Grindelwald decided to ask. "Do they think you're the Devil's spawn?"

"Dunno. They died in a car crash when I was one," the girl said morosely, then swept aside the messy bangs that covered her forehead and brows. "See this scar? I got that from the car crash."

Grindelwald stared at the lightning-bolt mark, the shape reminiscent of the wand movements required for the Killing Curse. Then he looked at the girl, not quite believing his eyes.  _This_  was the Girl-Who-Lived?  _This_  was the future Master of Death? He hadn't really gotten the chance to see the famous Harriet Potter before, stuck in Nurmengard since his defeat to his death. He only heard of her briefly, from Voldemort and fellow inmates in Hell. He didn't know how she looked like, for the newspapers had nothing about her after her disappearance from the Wizarding world following Voldemort's first defeat. There were books of course, but he knew better than to trust any of their codswallop.

Now what to do? Here he was, in the middle of a Wyldewood, with a lost Girl-Who-Lived who has escaped from her Muggle relatives via accidental apparition.

He could leave her here, although she might follow him. Then he'd have to stun her or body-bind her. But then she would be stuck here, and help would be unlikely to come across her unless they came in the form of the  _Sidhe_. Which wasn't a good thing either. It  _wasn't_  his conscience or morals speaking. He knew that if the fae got their hands on her, something Unpredictable, Unexpectable and Utterly Terrible might happen. It would be just like Chaos to take this opportunity to do something strange. And if this wasn't Death's Task shoved into his face by Fate, then he didn't know what was.

But. He was Gellert Grindelwald. And former Dark Lord or not, he wasn't a baby-sitter in any way. He was a sociopath, albeit not a psychopath—at least, he didn't think he was, not yet, and he should know the difference—but the point was:  _He couldn't deal with children_. Fate must be laughing her ass off by now.

"I didn't summon you. And I'm not here to take you away from your relatives. You seem to have done a good job yourself. I plan to continue travelling the world, my next destination is Mongolia, then China, Japan, South-East Asia, you get the idea. I'm researching magic. I don't have time to look after a kid like you."

Harriet Potter tilted her head to one side, a bit like a bird, her watchful gaze on him. "Then can you bring me back? I'm lost an' I dunno how to get back. I live in Little Whinging, Surrey. Number Four Privet Drive."

Grindelwald did not fail to notice how ridiculous this whole thing was, and how this former Dark Lord now knew the address of the Girl-Who-Lived. He didn't fail to realise that the girl didn't seem very disappointed about having to return to her relatives either. He made a small movement with his wrist, and his wand appeared in his hand. A silent  _Tempus_  was cast.

"What time do you need to get back by?" In other words, how much time he had to find out more about this enigma of a girl.

The girl did not reply for a while, staring instead at his wand. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, like a goldfish, before she finally said, still staring at his wand with open curiosity and wonder, "Sunrise. Aunt Petunia will go spare if I'm not in my cupboard when she comes 'round to wake me up."

Grindelwald froze. " _Cupboard?_ "

The girl blinked, her face carefully blank all of a sudden, her too-green eyes focused on him now. "Did I say that? I meant my room."

Grindelwald didn't need Legilimency to tell that she meant that the cupboard was her room, as absurd as it sounded. Though her eyes were focused on his, which would make it exceedingly easy to slip into her mind...

"Well then," Grindelwald said casually, to no one in particular, though he seemed to be addressing the girl. "It seems like I am going to be a kidnapper after all."

And in one swift motion, he scooped up the girl—who was  _too light_ , he noted—and apparated away.

 


	3. Harriet Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not kidnapping if you do all the legal paperwork.

**Chapter Three: Harriet Potter**

* * *

_"Aequa lege necessitas sortitur insignes et imos." Fate, by an impartial law, is allotted both to the conspicuous and the obscure. — Quintus Horatius Flaccus_

* * *

"Put me down!" Harriet demanded for the fifth time that morning. "I can walk on my own!"

She was currently being carried in the arms of the strange man she met in the forest. Thankfully, it wasn't bridal style, but still. She didn't know him, sure she'd ask for his help, but this was too strange. She still didn't know who he was or what he was. He seemed to be able to do Freaky things like her, and he had a wand, like in those fairy tales (except that in fairy tales, it's usually a witch or fairy godmother that uses  _ **M**_... except maybe Merlin?) But she still didn't know his name or what he had been in the forest for. It didn't seem like the kind of forest  _anyone_  would go to willingly. She should have known better than to talk to strangers...

_Oh no. What if he was one of those who practiced black_ **M** _? Like in those TV shows? And perhaps he really did summon me and had lied or something. Maybe he's gonna_ sacrifice _me to some higher demon? Or use my_ blood _or my_ arms and legs _or maybe he's gonna_ steal  _my_  soul _!_  Harriet started to panic internally. Oh she should have known! This was another lesson for Harriet to learn, provided this man didn't end up selling her heart to Baba Yaga Bony-legs or some wicked stepmother witch.

_Be careful for what you wish for_ , she thought darkly to herself.

Harriet looked around, contemplating ways to escape her predicament. They were walking around some sort of village or small town, with trees all around them and they seemed to be heading up a hill, towards a large house that could be a mansion or a manor... Harriet didn't know what the difference was. The village was quiet, as the morning was still very early, and the sun had yet to rise, the sky was a dusky indigo. There was a soft barking of dogs, and the soft footsteps of her kidnapper, who had been ignoring her since he began carrying her. Nothing else disturbed the silence. Her yelling didn't seem to help anything either.

It was just her, a scrawny five-year-old girl, against him, a young man, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. The thing was he didn't look like the sort to eat children or sacrifice them to demons in rituals. Or sell them in the black market for slaves or...

_Crap. Maybe he was the owner of some large business that involved selling little kids to adults who..._  Harriet shuddered. Aunt Petunia had threatened her about it once, when the usual Orphanage threats didn't work. She didn't want to ever hear or think about it again.

_But_  he looked  _nice_. (And he had an interesting accent, very slight, but Harriet thought it sounded quite cool all the same.) That was the thing.

The man had short golden hair that shone like waves of honey under old street lamps, a little wild, certainly less messy than hers, but his looked... nice. And he had blue eyes. Like the sky, she thought. Because like the sky, his eyes seemed to change colour. First it was a silvery blue, like ice, but warmer. Then it was a deeper blue, like the sea in summer. Not that Harriet knew what the sea was like. She'd only seen them in books and magazines before. After all, the Dursley's couldn't very well bring their Freak niece along whether they went to the beach. No. Instead, she was always stuck with Mrs. Figgs and her cats.

Harriet sighed. She was going to miss those cats.

Her stomach growled softly. She sighed again. She definitely wasn't going to miss those days stuck in her cupboard without food... But what if the man decided to keep her in a  _cage_  before doing whatever he wanted with her? She dearly hoped that he'd perhaps sell her to the witch in Hansel and Gretel. At least she'd get good food to eat then, even if she was going to be eaten later. But she was a girl, so maybe she would be Gretel, and be forced to do chores. Again.

"Mister, can you at least tell me  _why_  you'r kidnappin' me?" Harriet complained. "I'd like to know if I'm gonna be  _eaten_  or somethin'? Or are you gonna sell my heart or take my soul or sacrifice me—"

"What in the name of Morgana are you talking about?" the man exclaimed. Harriet thought it was about time he talked about anything, but she didn't say that.

"Your reason," she said instead. "For kidnappin' me."

The man didn't reply immediately, humming away as he continued walking long loping strides, and just as she thought he was going to give her the silent treatment again, he said, with a slight smirk, "For some entertainment."

Harriet all but shrieked in panic, and the man did some Freaky thing with his wand and the struggling girl found that she could no longer move.  _ **Magic** , he'd called it. The _ **M** _-word that was a taboo to say in the house of Dursley's._

"Calm down! What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "And don't shout like that. You're yelling into my ear."

"You're a horrible  _horrible_  person!" Harriet snapped at the suddenly annoyed and bewildered man. "Aunt Petunia said so! Only bad men like you will kidnap little children like me for entanter…  _entertainment_!"

The man rearranged her in his arms and she found herself staring right into blue eyes wide with shock? Surprise? Disgust? She couldn't tell. All she saw was a glimpse of summer sky... She blinked and shook her head, and realized that his magic had released her and her body was responding to her commands again.

"You thought..." the man started, spluttered, stopped. And said, in a tone that Aunt used when gossiping about some neighbor or about the Freak ( _scandalised_ , a long word, Harriet was proud to remember), "I didn't mean  _that_  kind of entertainment! And even then, I was only kidding! I seriously have no idea what to do with you. I don't even know why I took you with me."

The man sounded frustrated by the end of it, and Harriet felt quite contrite. Her face was burning with the mistake she made. If the man was indeed a good man who was as nice as he looked, then she probably ruined whatever chances she had with him, if she had any in the first place. Accusing people like that after jumping conclusions! What had she been thinking? And the poor guy had  _no idea_  what to do with her. Even though he was evidently a Freak like her.

_Aunt Petunia was right_ , Harriet mused,  _If even a fellow Freak doesn't want me._

He had made it quite clear before she asked him to take her home earlier. Yet he had kidnapped her. Though perhaps kidnap wasn't the right word, if he was kind enough to take her with him to wherever he was going. She couldn't understand why he would do it though.

_Conscience, perhaps?_ Harriet wondered.  _The strange Annoying Voice that tells you to do things you_ don't _want to do, or_ not _to do things you_ want _to do?_

Her conscience had become softer over the months since she discovered it. She wasn't too worried. But this man's conscience must be quite loud if it could convince him to bring along an extra person along with him for something she was quite sure she'd only be a burden for. No one ever brought her out of the country after all. Not even out of town.

" _Henrietta_ , are you  _crying?_ "

Harriet stared at the man whose expression seemed torn between concern and aghast. She blinked owlishly.

"No... Why would I be cryin'? Cryin's for babies. I'm five," she said, confused. Where did he get such an idea from? Because crying would also imply sadness or pain. Or maybe happiness. Harriet was quite sure she saw Mrs.-Number-Two cry and laugh at the same time when Mr.-Number-Two came home one day with flowers for her, after disappearing to who knows where for a year. In any case, Harriet thought she would know if she were feeling sad or in pain or happy.

"Five? Yes, you must be five... I thought you were four, you know. You're too small and skinny," the man commented tonelessly. He paused. "So you're not crying. That's... good. But you're upset. You know, I'm really not going to use you as entertainment."

"I know. I think...? An' I'm not upset," Harriet protested. She thought about Dudley. When Dudley was upset, he threw tantrums. She was quite sure she wasn't acting like him. She didn't like the idea of that. She was above feeling upset, thank you very much.

"An' my name's Harriet. Not Heri… Hanri… Henrietta," Harriet added, recalling what the man had called earlier.

The man sighed. "You're upset. Why do you insist otherwise? Your expression says it all. And I know you are Harriet. But I don't like that name. It's too boring."

"I'm  _not_  upset!" Harriet exclaimed petulantly. "An' how d'you knows my name? I dun think I've intru… introduced myself before! An' you haven' told me your name. You… You dun have the right to make my name longer jus' 'cuz it's boring!"

"Yes, you are. You're being childish about it. And I know your name because... because of magic," the man said almost carefully. "You can call me Gerwald. Gerwald Grinsen. What would you like me to call you?"

"You're arguin' with a five-year-old, Mister Gerwald.  _Who's_  childish?" Harriet retorted with the intellect one develops when there is nothing more exciting to do in the house than listening to women gossiping over tea. "You can call me anythin' you want but it must be a short name that's easy to say."

The man fell silent, a scowl on his handsome face. Then he said, " _Hadria_. You can be Hadria. Now tell me what's upsetting you."

"I forgot," Harriet said dismissively. Hadria. She liked it. It sounded more interesting than Harriet, but wasn't a mouthful to say. It would be nice if she could just change her name like that.

Then her stomach grumbled louder than before. Harriet flushed and Gerwald looked at her oddly.

"Hungry? We're reaching," he said as he walked up to a pair of black iron-wrought gates that looked rather intimidating with its spikes and celtic knots, surrounded by high walls covered in ivy.

The heavy gates swung opened by themselves the moment Gerwald drew near. Behind the gates was the mansion Harriet saw earlier. It was quite a grand building with brick walls of cream and red, and white pillars, and tiled roofs of smoky gray-blue. There were gargoyles and statues, and gardens with fountains. Gerwald must either be very rich or have very rich friends, Harriet thought her eyes wide with awe.

"What would you like to eat, Hadria?" Gerwald asked while carrying her through the front gardens towards the stairs leading up to the main doors.

"What...? I... dunno?" Harriet replied with a slight frown.

"What do you usually have for breakfast then?"

"... Um. Bread?"

"Please be more specific. French toast? Sourdough with jam? Rolls and butter? Bagels with cream cheese? Or even sliced toast with eggs and bacon?"

Harriet mumbled something barely audible and Gerwald halted in his steps, turning to frown at her. She wasn't meeting his eyes.

" _Pardon?_ "

"Burn' toast?" Harriet tried again. The man's face was expressionless as he turned away and muttered something under his breath.

"Kochy," Gerwald called out and a funny little creature appeared before them with a loud pop. It had big bat-like ears and large tennis-ball eyes. Its small spindly body was covered in what looked like a tiny winding sheet. Alarmed, Harriet scrambled in Gerwald's arms to create as much distance as she could from that thing. Spiders? They were cute. Snakes? Wonderful to chat with. Centipedes? Nasty creatures to be killed. But  _what_ was _this?_

"Master! Master is home! What can Kochy do for Master?" The Thing said, and Harriet could only think, _It spoke!_

"Kochy," Gerwald was saying. "Prepare breakfast for us. Ham, sausages, omelet fried with cheese, onions and tomatoes, buttered toast and rolls, with some coffee and cocoa."

Kochy the Thing bowed and disappeared with a pop.

"That was a house elf," Gerwald explained to Harriet. "He's not the only one around here. Their usual job is to clean the place, do the laundry, prepare meals, and tend the gardens... Whatever their master requires of them. They have their own magic to help them do their chores."

It only made Harriet panic internally:  _If this man who could use magic and other Freaky stuff, had servants who could do any chores with magic, then... it means my only use will be gone! I'm useless compared to these creatures! So... what will he do with me?_

_Good person. He's a good person. A good person,_  Harriet chanted to herself, trying to keep herself from imagining the worst things he could use her for.

"Mädchy, prepare the Second bedroom for Hadria. She'll be staying with us for the week," Gerwald was addressing another house elf that he had called. The little creature stared at Harriet before grinning widely and clapping her hands.

"Has Master finally brought home an Heiress? Mädchy is glad. Very glad. Mädchy will prepare Second bedroom for Miss Hadria!"

The house elf clapped again and disappeared. Harriet stared at the spot the elf had vacated, confused.

"Mister Gerwald?"

"I've decided to adopt you. Unless you object?" Gerwald calmly said and she gaped.

" _Adopt?_ "

"Yes. Adopt. Of course, we could just treat this as a kidnapping, and save a lot of paperwork to be done, but if Dumbledore finds out that his Girl-Who-Lived has disappeared, and he probably will, he will start a manhunt for you. Then when you finally turn eleven, going to Hogwarts would be too troublesome and I might just send you to Durmstrang instead. But I think you should go Hogwarts instead. Not sure what'll happen otherwise..."

"Won't that make me  _your kid?_ " Harriet couldn't really understand most of what he said, and the parts she did understand made little sense. This was becoming too good to be true. After all, parents don't sacrifice their children to demons in rituals...  _Right?_

"Yes. And while I'm hardly one for any form of parenting, and I would never imagine myself as a father, the safest way to go about this is for me to legally adopt you. We'll treat me as your guardian, or mentor, if the whole father-and-daughter thing becomes too much for either of us to stomach."

"THANK YOU!" Harriet exclaimed and hugged the strange man.

It did occur to her that this was very odd and typically wouldn't happen to anyone else. And if she had been a little older, a little more pampered or a little more aware of the Wizarding world, she would have been more wary and reluctant to simply accept this strange man she met in the woods as her new guardian. But it was also her birthday, and Harriet was feeling more optimistic than usual.

She didn't think about ulterior motives more subtle than those her imagination had supplied earlier, she didn't think he could be much worse than the Dursley's. Later on, she would also realize that it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him anyway.

* * *

Two hours later, Gerwald had sent for the paperwork needed to be done to adopt Harriet, with as little fuss as possible, with the help of some German Ministry wizards, a few goblins and a bit of gold.

"We're going to visit the Dursleys," Gerwald announced as he filed the papers he had finished signing, and looked up to see Harriet openly staring at him.

She was seated on a tall chair at the desk on the opposite side of him, swinging her short legs every now and then, but careful not to kick the desk. Before her was a mess of scrap paper, all of them filled with scrawly loopy words and ink blotches. She had tried to create a signature for herself, but failed miserably and gave up half-an-hour ago, and had decided to observe the strange man before her instead.

"We'll need to teach you calligraphy someday," Gerwald said absently, as he looked over her horrible writing, though that may be because it was her first time using a quill.

"Okay," Harriet agreed obligingly.

Gerwald then took her hand and helped her off the tall chair. He carried her, ignoring her protests, out of the manor and beyond the gates, and Harriet felt that uncomfortable squeezing sensation before her dizzy vision cleared.

She found herself staring at the neat rows of houses in Little Whinging.

"What was that?" Harriet asked, now that her mind was quite sure there wasn't anything else more urgent than figuring out this strange jumping to ordinarily-unreachable-by-jumping places thing.

"Apparition. It's a magical form of transportation that involves disappearing from one place and appearing in another in the span of a second," Gerwald explained.

"Can you apperite anywhere then?" It sounded very useful to Harriet.

" _Apparate_. Not apperite. And no. Some places have wards—magical protections—that prevent apparition. My-Our manor is one such place," Gerwald said as he brought them into Privet Drive.

"Then why didn't you uh apparate to the manor? Outside the manor. Earlier. When you first kidnapped me. It'd have saved all the walking."

"Oh. I needed the time I spent carrying you and walking to figure out what to do with you. Now, why don't you ring the doorbell?"

They had reached, and were standing at the doorstep of Number Four. The car was not there, so it could be assumed that Uncle Vernon was at work. Harriet hesitated.

"You sure this is a good idea? Aunt Petunia can be very scary when she's angry."

Gerwald grinned, amused. "I'm a wizard, Hadria. That means I practice magic and I'm quite good at it. Your Muggle—non-magical—relatives can't hurt me."

Harriet reluctantly rang the doorbell.

There was a loud thumping of heavy footsteps, and unintelligible voices shouting before the door swung open. Standing before them was a short boy—short, but still evidently taller than Harriet—who looked quite fat. Dudley scowled when he saw Harriet.

"MOMMY! Freaky's back!" Dudley hollered over his shoulder and Aunt Petunia came into view as she came down the stairs and into the hallway.

"Oh," she said when she saw Harriet and Gerwald, her face turning a funny patchy shade of purple and red. "Harriet! Oh, I'm so sorry. Did you find her? She must have run away in the night. So sorry to have inconvenienced you. Thanks for retur—"

"Petunia Dursley, I'm not here to return Hadria," Gerwald interrupted coldly and passed her a file. "I'm adopting her. These are the papers you need to sign to pass the guardianship over to me. Sign them, and we'll be on our way. You won't need to bother about her anymore."

Harriet noted that Aunt Petunia paled rapidly, as she stared at the papers in the file. Her hands were shaking.

"But… But that old wizard—Dumbel-something, he… I promised—"

"And what did  _Dumbledore_  say?"

Harriet turned to look at Gerwald, startled by the odd combination of venom and honey in his voice. His face was blank, expressionless, but his eyes looked like they had frozen blue flames. And for the first time since she met him, she felt fear.

Not the same kind of high-alarm or freeze-don't-move-don't-attract-attention feeling she got when Uncle Vernon was in a horribly bad mood. Not the same kind of panicky feeling she got when wondering if he was going to sell her, eat her or sacrifice her. No, this was a strange and almost irrational fear. The feeling of wanting to run far far away without looking back, to scream in an attempt to release the emotion in her chest-the emotion that made her heart crash too loudly against a ribcage that suddenly felt too fragile, all without really knowing  _why_ , except that he  _felt_  dangerous. He hadn't even done anything yet, he wasn't even frowning.

But Aunt Petunia must have felt it too, because she stammered incoherently and for a while she looked like she desperately wanted to slam the door shut and hide in her room, before she finally said, "H-he left her. On the do-doorstep. Wi-with a l-letter. That's all. I-it was four y-years ago. N-never seen h-him since. W-wait here."

Then she left, scrambled away like a frightened colt, skinny and awkward and nearly tripping up the stairs, leaving a very white and paralyzed Dudley at the door. She was back soon, clutching a crumpled piece of paper along with the file of documents that Gerwald had given her.

"Here," she whispered and thrust the crumpled paper at them. Gerwald took the paper with one hand and read the cursive writing on it. Harriet tried to read it too, but she couldn't distinguish the curly joint-up letters into words. Whatever it was though, it seemed to make Gerwald even angrier, the arm carrying Harriet tightening uncomfortably.

"So. He left Hadria on your doorstep on a  _cold November morning_ , with nothing but this letter?"

"Wra-wrapped and b-bundled in a blanket. Y-yes."

"Not even a basket?" Soft words edged with mild prickles of static electricity, the breeze heralding thunder.

Aunt Petunia nodded a jerky motion. "N-no basket."

Gerwald seemed to consider this for a moment, and smiled almost jovially, eyes still cold and bright as a winter sunrise, his voice lilting, "Well, it's too late for you to take her back now. Hadria no longer considers this place as 'home'. The blood wards have fallen. Best for you to just sign the papers. I doubt Albus will harm you just because you decided to rid yourself of the burden he dumped onto you. He's gone  _quite soft_... Not that he ever had much of a stomach for cruelty."

Aunt Petunia, accepting what he said, and instinctively understanding that the wizard before her was very very dangerous, signed the documents quickly, barely reading what they contained. She hesitated, just before she handed the papers back to Gerwald.

"Y-you won't h-harm her. Will y-you?" she asked tentatively. Harriet's eyes widened. It was the first time her aunt seemed to show and sign of true concern for her.

"No. And I most certainly will be treating her  _far_  better than what you have managed," Gerwald replied, his previously almost non-existent accent thickening with his displeasure. Aunt Petunia gulped, nodded and gave him the signed documents. She made another robotic motion, a bit like a bow, muttered a quick "Have a good day" and closed the door.

There was a short moment of silence, as Gerwald and Harriet stared at the closed door.

"Would you like to magically change your name?" Gerwald asked casually, breaking the silence. Harriet started, a little put off-balanced by his sudden change in mood. His blue eyes had warmed considerably.

"I'd like that," she replied shyly. Gerwald smiled at her. It was a comfortable quirk of the lips that was so different yet scarily similar compared to his earlier smile.

"We'll be keeping your surname though. Unless I adopt you magically. But I'm not sure if that's a good idea at this point in time," he said, and carried her away to a point beyond Little Whinging, out of sight of the people there.

"Okay," Harriet said, not really minding it either ways. Gerwald observed her carefully.

"You'll be safe with me and from me, I promise," he said a little awkwardly, when he guessed the reason for her constant fidgeting and the wary look that was still on her face.

Harriet ducked her head ruefully, then looked up and gave him a blinding grin. "Thank you. Again."

Gerwald smirked back and ruffled her hair affectionately. "You're welcome, lil' brat."

* * *

(( _Oh dear_ , he thought to himself, slightly alarmed.  _Don't tell me I'm becoming soft as well._ ))

* * *

 


	4. A Short Interlude (Or Feature 01: He-Who-Lost-The-Girl-Who-Lived)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind the Scenes: Dumbledore loses a Fight he didn't realise he was fighting.

**Chapter Four: A Short Interlude (Or Feature 01: He-Who-Lost-The-Girl-Who-Lived)**

* * *

_"_ _Barba non facit philosophum_. _" Beards do not make philosophers. —Latin Proverb, (Herodes Atticus via_ _Aulus Gellius?)_

* * *

There were many Factors that were responsible for the Fiasco.

* * *

**One of them was Luck.**

_On the 30th of July, 1985, Albus Wulfuric Dumbledore helped his good friends, the Flamels, move the Philosopher's Stone to a vault with higher security. One could never be too careful with anything of such priceless value. He then stayed for dinner, and ended up swapping stories of the good ol' times and chatting about anything and everything under the starry skies, with a good measure of firewhiskey. Not something either Nicholas or Albus drank much of, but indulged in occasionally. Then Perenelle had Albus stay the night, and would not accept him leaving their hospitality at the ungodly hours they had stayed up to._

_So no one knew when a certain instrument in the Headmaster's office began to whistle and flash yellow blinking lights, just a few seconds after midnight. And Albus was none the wiser, when another instrument came to life, flying around the room, emitting red sparks as it searched for a way out of the office to alert its owner of what it had sensed._

* * *

  **Another of them was Fate.**

_Albus Dumbledore slept in late, before getting up and having a relaxing breakfast with the Flamels. Then he returned to Hogwarts, where he bumped into a wide-eyed Seer who smelled strongly of sherry and was muttering to herself as she stared at her tarot cards. As the kindly old wizard led the half-drunk Divination Professor back to her quarters, she suddenly gave a loud gasp and began speaking in a raspy voice, eyes rolling backwards. It was another Prophecy, one that Albus did not understand, except that it was tied closely to the first Prophecy he had heard her give. The one about Chosen One vanquishing the Dark Lord. In fact, it sounded ominously like it might be an overwrite of the original Prophecy he heard._

_It was the first sign he got that something was wrong. Very wrong._

_And while he was held up by the Seer, a third instrument in the Headmaster's office began to hop on the spot, puffing violet smoke as it did so_.

* * *

**The third Factor was Change.**

_The moment the Headmaster returned to his office, the flying red-lit instrument whizzed out and slammed into him in its haste. Albus stared at the flying instrument, heart clattering down into the pits of his stomach like a bucket in a well. The Blood Wards had fallen, and he could not believe it. Then he took note of the other two instruments trying to get his attention. Harriet has left the House. The Blood Wards have fallen. Magical Guardianship has been transferred to someone else._

_Albus, being an old and powerful wizard, was wise enough to try and keep a cool head as he analysed the facts. He quickly found the Hogwarts Register for students who have yet to be enrolled into the school. He found a Hadria Potter where Harriet Potter's name should be, and felt the most miniscule of relief-His Chosen One had not changed her family name. She had not been magically adopted. But for a magical name change to occur…_

* * *

  **And then there was Chaos.**

_Albus Dumbledore found himself in a room with two goblins. Some time later, he left Gringotts in a flurry, a rainbow-coloured hurricane. The only thing the goblins was willing to tell him was that Harriet, now named Hadria, had been legally adopted by a foreign Pureblood wizard, who was now her new magical guardian, and the access he once had to her unfrozen vaults now lay in the hands of this unknown wizard. He was also given one week to return all that he had borrowed from her vaults, or he would get to know what crossing a goblin is like, first-hand._

_The Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall and Slytherin Head of House, Severus Snape, were then informed about the current status of the Potter Heir. They were appropriately concerned and upset with the Headmaster for 'losing' the girl like that. It didn't take very long for search parties to be sent out, for all of them to use what contacts they had to find the girl, baring the Ministry of Magic. The Order of the Phoenix rose again, just to find a 'missing' girl._

_Everyone, even the usually calm and serene Headmaster, began panicking when the girl could not be found or located after a month. All methods failed, even the Headmaster's tracking instruments. Voices were raised. Fingers were pointed to anyone and everyone, accusations thrown about like knives. Hands were wrung, hair was pulled and beards were torn at._

_Because how were they going to let the world know that their Saviour Girl had been lost?_

* * *

  **Last but not least, Time, the essence of everything.**

_Two months passed. Followed by three. There was no sight nor sound of the Girl-Who-Was-Lost._

_A year passed. No one could find anything about the Missing Girl or her guardian without the Ministry's aid._

_Another year passed. And they worried about the influence her mysterious new guardian may have on her._

_Three years. Four years. Five years. They counted down to the day the Girl would receive her Hogwarts letter. To the day they would finally see her address._

_And then they would have to wait another month, to see her reply, if she was still alive then._

* * *

 

And if she wasn't alive or could not be found... Well, whose fault would it be?

* * *

 


	5. Familial Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Country-hopping and pet collecting. And Hadria is a pain.

**Chapter Five: Familial Life**

* * *

_"Innumeras curas secum adferunt liberi." Children are uncertain comforts but certain cares. —Latin Proverb_

* * *

China, 1986

* * *

Gerwald sighed as he watched little Hadria riding a large black dog, chasing a baby dragon around the dragon sanctuary. The little Chinese Fireball hissed and spat a stream of fire at the girl and her companion before scampering off, tiny wings flapping uselessly.

"That dog... Is it a  _Tiangou_?"

Gerwald turned to see one of the dragon keepers watching the girl play with the dragonlet. But his eyes were on the shadowy figure in the shape of a dog.

"Germans call it the  _Bärgeist_ , the Irish know it as the  _Cu Sidhe_ , while English call it the Grim," Gerwald smoothly replied, secretly amused at the dragon keeper's shock.

"How did your  _nü'er_  come to befriend one?" the dragon keeper sounded quite torn between wonder and alarm. Understandably.

Gerwald shrugged. A few months ago, he had been just as awed and horrified. But he had since grown used to the presence of the hellhound.

* * *

 It was Yule, when he first met the harbinger of Death. They had spent the Winter Solstice in Russia, in a small Wizarding village, and were settling in for a cosy night by the fireplace with hot chocolate when someone outside the inn started yelling about the arrival of  _Simargl_.

A glance outside the partially frosted window revealed villagers on the street or at their windows warily watching a large shadowy black dog gliding towards the inn on wings that looked like they were ablaze with black flames.

There was a strange sound, like soft thunder, and the wall beside the window vibrated before a black thing charged through, howling wind accompanying its appearance. Gerwald remembered he had gasped then, utterly shocked, as the wind died down as soon as it arrived, and the wall bore no trace of having had anything pass through.

The next thing that stunned the former Dark Lord was Hadria's gleeful shout of, "Shadow! You found me!"

The third thing that had Gerwald wonder if he was dreaming was when the black thing turned out to be the Grim, and was nuzzling a giggling Hadria like a playful puppy, its flaming wings harmlessly dissipating into smoke.

Then he recalled the imaginary black dog that Hadria had once told him about and groaned. And the Grim had turned to him at the sound, and said, in a deep gravelly voice, "Do you have a problem?"

"It's just... Of all things... I mean. Do you know how ridiculous this is? The girl I decided to adopt so happens to have  _Death's familiar_  as a playmate?" Gerwald had replied, running a hand through his blonde hair in exasperation.

"She's the Girl-Who-Lived," the hellhound had pointed out with a bark-like laugh. Gerwald suppressed another groan.

"How many people in this village are going to die tonight?" He asked instead.

"One," the Grim had replied, and gave Gerwald a shark's grin, which was very disconcerting, with his sharp white teeth and unnaturally green eyes-brighter and more incandescent than Hadria's irises- gleaming with the reflected light of the fire. "You'll be dead before sunrise."

And Gerwald had visible turned green (because a Grim was a creature—amortal non-being, unclassified but would have been given a septuple-X rating if possible—that one does not mess with, Dark Lord or not), wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into and how much the Higher Entities seemed to like messing up his second chance at life when Hadria swatted at the Grim's head.

"Bad Shadow!" Hadria scolded. "Dun scare 'im like that."

And the Grim had nuzzled her again before laughing—a dark, eerie laugh that would have endeared the hearts of any Dark witch or wizard if it had not come from a Grim—at him. "Alright. I was just kidding."

It was Hadria's first wonderful Christmas and Gerwald's first nightmarish Yule. The Grim had stayed with them ever since. Or to be more specific, it came and went as it pleased, like a stray cat, but it would visit Hadria often and play with her. (And it loved passing by humans, especially European Wizarding folk, just to give them a scare and let them think they're about to die or face certain doom.)

It was Gerwald who changed the name of Shadow to  _Scáth_ , however, and the Grim had been quite pleased. That didn't mean it stopped delivering death threats though. The Grim seemed to enjoy reminding the former Dark Lord about how lenient Death had been to him, whenever Hadria was out of earshot.

* * *

 "Your  _nü'er_  must be quite special if the  _Tiangou_  is her familiar," the dragon keeper commented. There was now a swarm of baby dragons chasing after the girl riding the black dog.

"Special? Yes. Yes, she is," Gerwald murmured. He did not fail to notice that though the Grim wasn't actually her familiar, he might as well be, what with the girl being the potential Master of Death.

* * *

Japan, 1986

* * *

Gerwald should have expected it, when he was awoken one night, by Hadria's voice, scolding something. But one does not simply  _expect_  this sort of thing. Even after his fair share of strange happenings in his two lives.

When the former Dark Lord burst into the girl's room, his wand raised, he found her standing on her bed, wearing an oversized shirt as per usual (she seemed to like them better than nightdresses), waving a retractable staff made of peach and cherry wood in one hand, her illegally-obtained wand in the other. Floating gently just above the floor was a rippling black patch, that resembled a pool of watered silk.

The room, Gerwald noted, was unusually bright. Then he noticed the silvery white form of a nine-headed serpent-like beast, glowing brilliantly above her, hovering near the ceiling. A Patronus! At such a young age? But what was she  _doing?_

"Hadria, what are you trying to do?" Gerwald demanded, as he watched the six-year-old poke at what looked like a mass of rippling black cloth with her peach-and-cherry wooden staff. He had bought it for her birthday, from an exorcist in China.

" _Saito-san_  said that an  _ittan-momen_  might appear in the night! I'm trying to catch one!"

Gerwald stared at the creature on the floor. "Hadria... That isn't an  _ittan-momen_. That's a  _Lethifold._ "

Hadria blinked owlishly. "Oh."

Then she stared at the thing on the floor. "Is that why he's scared of my Protector?"

"If you didn't know it was a Lethifold, why did you even cast a Patronus charm?" Gerwald exclaimed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"'Cuz it was dark...?"

" _Lumos!_ " he snapped, patience wearing thin with his lack of sleep,lighting his wand. " _That's_  how you get light. Where did you learn the Patronus charm from anyway?"

"Scáth taught me."

"Right. Trust that damn hellhound to teach you something complicated for a simple purpose."

"So... Can we keep him?"

"Keep  _what?_ "

"The Lethifold. I've named him  _Noh_. Like, the Japanese play you brought me to watch last night."

" _Why?_ "

"Oh. 'Cuz it's like 'no', as in 'negative'. And he also reminds me of the black curtains before the show started. And he hasn't got a face, so he could wear a mask. And—"

"No! I meant,  _why_  did you even  _name_  it?"

"But then what could I call him? He needs a name. Everyone needs one. Even Scáth has a name."

"That thing will eat you alive when you sleep!" (Because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he wasn't keen on losing the girl just yet, and it most definitely wasn't because he had grown somewhat attached to her. Oh no. Of course not.)

"No, he won't. He'll be good. Won't you, Noh?"

And Gerwald thought he must have imagined it when the Lethifold flapped it's flat manta-ray-like 'head' up and down.

"See? He nodded." The Lethifold flapped more vigorously now.

Gerwald decided he had too little sleep to deal with the ridiculousness of his ward-child-whatever at the moment. So he merely sighed and called out, "Nacht!"

There was a light breeze and the Thestral galloped down the hallway of their rented apartment.

"Nacht, make sure she isn't harmed. If the Lethifold so much as lift itself one inch off the floor, attack it and wake her up. I'm going to bed," he told the Thestral. The intelligent horse whinnied and cantered past him into the room.

"But Gerwald, who are you talking to?" Hadria asked curiously, staring at the empty space that her guardian had addressed. (He was technically now her father and she his daughter, and she went by the name of 'Hadria Grinsen', but the both of them found it too strange to contemplate that they stopped attempting to refer to each other as such. Hadria, because she never had a father-figure before, and she thought Gerwald was more of a friend than a parent. An adult friend, but a friend nonetheless. Gerwald, because he never had a child before and never intended to have one. He thought of Hadria as a favorite niece or goddaughter instead.)

"None of your business," Gerwald replied irritably and went back to his room for some sleep, leaving Hadria alone in the room with a Lethifold on the floor and an invisible creature by the door.

The next morning, he found her playing shogi with Scáth the Grim, and the both of them were sitting on the Lethifold on the floor. The Thestral was watching them with much interest. Gerwald suddenly wondered how did keeping a creature as a pet involved using it as a carpet. If the thing wasn't a Lethifold, he might have been concerned over the mistreatment of the poor magical creature.

* * *

Australia, 1987

* * *

Gerwald returned to the motel room after a long of day at Uluru, studying the patterns of old magic while trying to avoid the billywig nests. Getting bitten by those infernal creatures was horrifying. Especially when he found himself hovering ten feet off the ground for over an hour. And apparently, stunning them was not an option because the deceptively silly creatures understood the concept of revenge.

When Gerwald opened the door, he was greeted by a hyper Hadria who hugged him enthusiastically, before hurrying off to the kitchen. She returned with a large chocolate cake that looked like it was made entirely out of chocolate, and far too many candles.

"Happy Birthday, Gerwald!" she said cheerfully, presenting him with the cake, which he now realised must have been baked herself. From the chocolate icing to the chocolate sauce to the chocolate chips and chocolate fudge... He didn't know any cake shop around here that would use that much chocolate in one cake. And his ward was a chocolate fanatic. (Her love for chocolate was second only to her love for treacle tart.)

But she was his chocolate fanatic, he thought fondly, as he accepted the cake. At one point in time, he took her in because it was his Task, and because having the Girl-Who-Lived by his side was sure to be advantageous in the long run. Or so he told himself anyway.

For months he denied the fact that he had taken her on impulse, that he had kidnapped her after realising how horrible her Muggle relatives were treating her...

He spent nights convincing himself that it wouldn't matter if she found out his true identity because he didn't really care about her or what she might think of him... He pretended that her smiles weren't sweet and that her affections meant nothing...

(Even after those times when he seriously frightened her with his anger, after breaking his promise to her to keep her safe because harm could come in many forms, after he nearly lost her...)

He would then remind himself of how annoying she could be, how ridiculous things tend to happen around her, how trouble always seemed attracted to her...

"I've got a prezzie for you too!" Hadria said blithely, and ran off again. He noticed that she had a Grim at her heels and a Lethifold draped over her shoulders like a cloak, billowing dramatically just the way she liked it.

Gerwald couldn't deny that the kid had a certain adorable charm about her though.

"Here! Open it! I found him last week, so I've already managed to train him," Hadria said as she shoved a large ribbon-wrapped box in his hands. The box rattled. Gerwald stared. Another pet?

He opened it.

And a gigantic billywig flew out.

Gerwald was loathed to admit that he very nearly let loose several Dark curses then, a majority of them being highly inappropriate to be used in the presence of an impressionable child. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the sight of his ward's adorably furious expression.

Hadria smacked the creature with a rolled-up newspaper that she seemed to have taken out of nowhere. "Geist! If you don't behave, I'll turn you into something ridiculous again!"

The gigantic billywig obediently turned into a fuzzy sooty gray ball with large colorless eyes and slitted-pupils, small cat-like ears, and a long thin tail. The fuzzball floated to Hadria and gave a sheepish grin which consisted of rows of tiny sharp teeth.

"Congratulations, you're the second human to have ever seen the true form of a Boggart," the Grim commented dryly. Gerwald made an odd choking sound as he watched Hadria pull the boggart's tail as it tried to escape. She looked like she was holding on to a gray cat-head-shaped balloon.

"Hadria, can you please stop catching Dark creatures and keeping them as pets?" Gerwald said, exasperatedly. Hadria froze before turning slowly to look at him with wide green eyes that suddenly seemed to take up the majority of her face.

"You mean... You don't like him?" she asked hesitantly. "I thought he can be quite funny." The Boggart turned away, resolutely not looking at anyone, and blew a raspberry, as if it had been offended by the mere thought of being remotely humorous.

Gerwald sighed, when he noticed the disappointment in those unnaturally large and green eyes. Hadria was rarely ever upset, and she never ever cried (except for that one time when she nearly got gored by a Graphorn...), but when she was unhappy, her eyes would widen like that, and her face would become eerily blank. Gerwald was starting to think that her unhappy expression might become one of his greatest weaknesses.

"No. I like him," he hastily said to the seven-year-old girl.

"Really?" Hadria questioned, brightening visibly.

"Yes, really," he replied in the most reassuring voice he could manage (because the girl was becoming annoyingly intuitive about when he's just charming someone and when he's sincere). The grumpy Boggart blew another raspberry.

When Gerwald glared at the creature, it turned into a young, auburn-haired man with twinkling electric blue eyes and a serene smile.

Gerwald blasted the Dumbledore-boggart into the next room with a well-aimed Bombarda.

Nope. He took everything back. He did not like the Boggart and Hadria was more troublesome than she was worth.

* * *

((Oh, who was he kidding?))


	6. Master of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hadria awakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot to all of you who have left comments and kudos! Glad to know you guys have enjoyed this fic so far! Here's another chapter for you! And as I have actually written up til Chapter 11, updates will be semi-regular until then, after which updates will be sporadic (read: two to three times a year) unless I am hit with so much inspiration that all my school work gets blown away. So yeah, just a heads up.

**Chapter Six: Master of Death**

* * *

_"Siste, viator." Stop, traveller._ — _Latin Tombstone Inscription_

* * *

When Harriet Potter met Death at the train station called Limbo, she hadn't expected to be given another life. She had expected to take the train and meet her parents, play with Sirius and Fred, and tell Remus and Tonks all about dear Teddy Lupin.

Instead, she was told by a gleefully cackling old hag that despite having snapped the Elder Wand into half, flying over the Pacific Ocean and dumping the pieces into the sea, despite throwing the Resurrection Stone into a boiling geyser, despite having left the Invisibility Cloak to Teddy, she was still the Master of Death. And now that she had finally died, after living to a ripe old age of 200, and having spent the last hundred plus years of her life in peace and serenity, she was to be reborn again. Because Death cannot harm his Master and so, until someone else manages to earn the title from her, she would never truly die.

The old hag was very talkative, and brought her on a tour around the Realms-the Train Station of Limbo, the Districts of Hell, the Havens...

Harriet was introduced to Dementors who loved her too much for her liking (she didn't want to find out what happen when a soul gets Kissed), to Hell-bred Cerberi who made Fluffy look like a puppy (they didn't just have three heads, they had a serpent's tail, horns and spikes, and huge claws, like some unholy offspring of Fluffy and Norberta), to hungry Lethifolds and Thestrals competing for a large bloody chunk of meat of unknown origin, and last but not least, she was introduced to a Phoenix that nearly set her on fire (could souls catch fire?).

Then she was introduced to the Higher Entities, which was when the old hag transformed into a young man with raven's hair similar to hers and laughing violet eyes. Apparently, he was the Trickster of the Eight, younger brother of Change.

Harriet did get to visit her family though. Fate brought her to see them, and they wished her good luck on her 'next great adventure'. Even Severus Snape was there, scowling at her father. She thought he was going to ignore her until she was about to leave, and he called out to her softly, and told her to keep out of trouble if she could. And Harriet left with Fate, chuckling at the Potion Master's words. It was about as affectionate as he could get.

"Bring back a boy this time!" Harriet heard someone yell from behind her. It sounded like Tonks.

"We want grandchildren!" James Potter agreed.

And Fate dragged her back to the train station while laughing, telling her that Time has agreed to help them give her a better life this time around.

Life met her at the station and gave her a train ticket, telling her that she would start recovering her memories from the age of eight, and would have regained most of it by nine. She would remember the smaller details by the time she turns ten.

Then the train came and took her away.

* * *

"You shouldn't be attempting this potion by yourself, you know," Scáth the Grim commented as he watched Hadria stir a cauldron filled with swirling peach and rose-colored liquid.

"Well you're here, aren't you?" she replied with a cheeky grin, and added a vial of silver bits into the pearly fluid. The silvery eggshells sizzled and dissolved into the mixture, turning the solution pale lilac. "Besides, I really need to brush up on my Potions or Snape will slaughter me when I finally attend Hogwarts."

"This is beyond a NEWT level potion," the shadowy black dog pointed out. "You're overdoing it. And where did you get Occamy eggshells from?"

"Well, since they typically cost too much for me to purchase without Gerwald knowing, I got Noh to steal some," Hadria said dismissively, and stretched her hand behind her. Her cloak burped out a bottle of rue powder.

"That thing has been in his stomach!"

"So? He has two stomachs after all. The stuff I get him to keep stay in the first stomach, which is more of a food pouch than a stomach. The second stomach is the one that actually digests anything."

"How do you know this?"

"Chaos told me before I returned. They're one of his favorite creatures. You mean Death never taught you this sort of stuff?"

"I have better things to do than learn about the insides of carnivorous pieces of _shadow-flesh_!"

"But you know the anatomy of a Dementor."

"That's because they sometimes join me when I go Hunting," snapped Scáth indignantly. "I prefer you when you were still an innocent little girl."

"Innocent?" Hadria laughed while stirring the cauldron again after adding a sprinkle of the powdered herb into the mixture.

"Yes. Innocent. Naive. Take your pick. I mean, you befriended a Grim, followed a Dark Lord home—"

"Former Dark Lord. And technically, he kidnapped me." ,

"—You didn't really object. And you caught a Lethifold and made it your pet or servant. Whatever. And not to mention fearing nothing except fear, which led to the seeing and capturing of a Boggart in its true form. No experienced child or adult would have done all of what you did."

"... Basically, you prefered me when I was an idiot and took you word for it whenever you told me anything."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

" _Hadria!_ Geist refuses to eat his food!"

The Grim and the nine-turning-ten-year-old girl turned to the door. Hadria quickly finished the last heating while yelling, "Coming!"

"Were you aware that he's Grindelwald when you gave him the Boggart as a present?" Scáth couldn't help but ask.

"Not really. Life was right, of course—I didn't start remembering anything much until a year ago. At the time, he just seemed familiar, as if I might have seen him in some cartoon or show that Dudley watched before. Do you know how weird it is when you start getting this feeling that the person you look up to and care about isn't a good person? That he isn't the um… antihero you see him as but instead, reminds you of a villain? Oh I knew that he was dangerous. I've known it right from the start, and sometimes I get a glimpse of his... darker side, so to speak. But he's always tried to make up for it, and despite his... shortcomings... he cared for me more than the Dursleys ever did. And I decided not to care, because it seemed like he still cared about me, at the end of everything. I know now that he probably had quite a few moments when he wasn't actually thinking about my welfare, but... Well, it's complicated," Hadria replied while absently patting her jeans pockets. "Damn it! Where's my wand?"

A loud burp that sounded like a singing black hole and a wand clattered to the floor.

"Oh! _Noh!_ You weren't supposed to eat my wand!" Hadria exclaimed as she picked up the wand that Gellert (as she had begun calling him in her head now that she knew his identity) had bought her two years ago. Gregorovitch had been rather shocked when they paid him a visit, because he condemned Gellert for being some bastard child of Grindelwald (evidently, he still hadn't forgiven Gellert for stealing the Elder Wand from him) and would've hexed them out of the store if he hadn't fainted at the sight of the Grim standing behind them.

After they revived him and assured him that he wasn't going to die anytime soon (probably), they managed to more or less coerce him into selling her a wand. He had also been very shocked when her wand chose her, because he saw her as the former Dark Lord's niece, and she had found herself paired with a wand made of elder wood, with the core of a basilisk plume feather, eleven and a half inches.

"Death is upon us all!" the wandmaker had exclaimed and got them out of his shop as fast as he could. At the time, Hadria was still a clueless little girl (mostly), and had no idea what the whole fuss was about, though it did seem rather funny.

"Next time, we're going to visit Ollivander. He's a little more cautious and less experimental with his wands, but at least he didn't treat me like I've come to murder him or something!" Gerwald had ranted as he took Hadria away. (Looking back, Hadria wondered if he hadn't been secretly pleased with Gregorovitch's reaction.)

Later on, when the little girl asked him, rather innocently, who Grindelwald was, Gellert had frozen for a split second, before replying tightly, "A Dark wizard who tried to rule the world."

"Do all bad guys want world domination?" Hadria had then demanded, sounding rather put-off by the clichê And the tension was gone as quickly as it came.

" _Felixempra_ ," Hadria muttered as she waved her wand over the simmering cauldron. The cerulean blue liquid within glowed for a moment, then settled. She took the cauldron off the fire and set it on a tray beside the window, where the sun's rays could fall upon it. The potion would be ready in six months.

Hadria found Gerwald in the kitchen, trying to stuff a large fish into the Boggart's mouth, who was currently taking the form of a Kneazle for unknown reasons.

"And this is one of the reasons why I can't help but like him even when I know he's a former Dark Lord," Hadria murmured to Scáth, as she watched the oddly endearing sight of Grindelwald struggling with a stubborn, hissing and yowling magical cat.

"He was like this when he was younger. Back in his previous life," the Grim muttered back. "He had plenty of... amusing moments when he was a tiny first year at Durmstrang."

"You've been _stalking_ him?"

"Not really. But I did see him a couple of times before."

"See who?" Gellert demanded as he dragged the Boggart towards them. "Hadria, the Boggart's going to starve."

"But... You've fed him for more than a year!" Hadria exclaimed, slipping back into 'ordinary' nine-year-old mode.

"Yes. And for the past year, he's been eating whatever I feed him without complaints. What were you doing in your room anyway? The whole place smells of thyme."

"Scáth says herbs are good for courage and keeps away bad dreams..." Hadria said as she realised the reason for Geist's uncooperativeness. (Who knew Boggarts didn't like thyme?) "So I put some under my pillow, and soaked some in the bath, and burnt some over my coffin."

"Wait. Wait a minute. So you've got a _bathtub_ full of thyme and..." Here, Gellert frowned. "A coffin? Why do you have _a coffin?!_ "

"The room came with one," Hadria replied, acting confused and pretending not to understand him. The Grim couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"There's nothing in the coffin, right?" Gellert bit out, massaging his temples, while hoping that the house he just rented a month ago was not haunted or inhabited by a vampire.

"Well, it's empty now... " Hadria trailed off.

"I don't remember seeing a coffin the last time I entered your room." Which was a month ago, when they had just moved in.

"But of course you did! It's huge! With light purple curtains and big fluffy pillows and—"

"We're talking about the same thing, right?"

Hadria pretended to look bemused. "Yeah? The thing that some people sometimes sleep in?"

"That is a _four-poster bed!_ Not a coffin! _Scáth!_ What have you been teaching her?!"

One hour later, Hadria and the Grim were back in her room, her door carefully warded shut, as it had been ever since she regained her more practical memories from her stint as an Auror.

"I can bet you right now, that Fate is shouting 'That's my girl!' and Luck is saying, 'Poor Gellert,' and Chaos is yelling, 'Go Hadria!'" Scáth laughed.

Hadria opened the small coffin that was lying at the end of her bed and with a flick of her wand, sent the whole mess of thyme into the casket. The herb had done its job of masking the smell of potion making and annoying Gellert.

"Where did you get the coffin from anyway?" Scáth asked. Hadria shut the morbid beauty, and sat upon its dark wood cover.

"It was here when we moved in. The vampire kid wasn't too pleased, but Noh managed to scare him away."

"So you weren't lying after all," the Grim noted wryly. "I only hope that you didn't accidentally piss off some ancient clan of vampires..."

Hadria thought about it. "Well, the kid did sound a bit like Dudley, or Malfoy... He yelled, _'My sire will hear of this!'_ before he left."

The Grim sighed. "When are you planning on letting our resident Dark Lord know that the Master of Death has awoken and is causing trouble in the body of his innocent little Hydra?"

'Little Hydra' was Gellert's nickname for Hadria, which was quite apt, considering her newest Patronus. (After her retirement from her job as an Auror, her Patronus had changed from the stag to a doe, a symbol of her quiet strength and love for another when she took up Healing. It wasn't surprising that her Patronus had changed again after her 'Return'—as Hadria liked to call it, but neither Grim nor Hadria knew why it had changed into a nine-headed serpentine beast of all things.)

"Not any time soon," Hadria replied. "He'll have to reveal himself first. And even then... We'll see."

* * *

Hadria was always encouraged by Gellert to read and pursue knowledge. One third of the things she learnt was taught by Scáth, another one third was what she already knew from her previous life, and the last one third was taught by the former Dark Lord himself, who was starting to get the feeling that the girl was a prodigy of sorts. Of course, she was the Chosen One after all, but still, she was very Strange. She was quick to learn in most areas, totally stubborn in other subjects, and picked up the wrong ideas everywhere else.

Hadria had a lot of fun exasperating her 'Dark Guardian', though it was accidental half the time.

Six months after the Thyme and Coffin Incident, the Grinsen family packed up and left the US for Mexico, where they would be staying for a week.

When they arrived in Mexico on the eve of the Day of the Dead. Gellert booked them into an inn, before leaving to explore the town. Hadria opted to stay indoors for the day, as Scáth had told her to expect a visit from him, and she didn't want to cause an unnecessary commotion if the Grim decided to hunt her down in some crowded marketplace full of Wizarding folk who could see him.

Lunch was prepared by herself, something she was quite good at (it was probably because the Dursleys made her learn how to cook as soon as she could reach the stove on a stool). Scáth dropped by for an hour before leaving because Death had a job for him to do.

When Gellert returned, he brought back with him a stack of books, and he dumped most of it into Hadria's arms. Some of the books looked ancient, with worned leather covers and tattered yellow parchment that were thin and stained with brown patches. Half of them were written in curls and squiggles and lines that Hadria could not identify.

"Gerwald, I can't read Nahuatl or Mayan," she told her guardian, and he dumped an old dictionary into her arms, on top of the pile of books that were already there.

"What are these for?" Hadria asked, flipping through one book which had illustrations of suns, worm, skulls and flowers accompanying blocks of text.

"They're books on Necromancy. True Raising of the Dead goes against the laws of Magic, so I'm not going to attempt it, and you shouldn't either, but it won't hurt to read what some moonstruck wizards have to say on the subject," Gellert had replied. "They seem to think that Death is female. _Santa Muerte_ , they call her."

Hadria decided not to tell Gellert that Death had no gender, even if he did prefer the form of a man, the way Fate prefered the form of a woman. She didn't want to bother explaining how she came across this information anyway. Because even Scáth could not have given taught her anything about the Higher Entities unless she became the Master of Death or had died and returned from the dead like Gellert. And Gellert knew it.

So Hadria simply took the books to her room. Noh was lounging on her bed, playing with her crystal flask of Felix Felicis (rolling the flask about with its rippling body). The potion had absorbed the golden hue of six months worth of sunlight, and was swimming in the flask like gilded quicksilver (if such a thing was even possible). Scáth had been quite impressed by her successful brewing of the potion, though the both of them knew that half of her success was due to the fact that she had been Lucky when brewing. It was always a good thing to be blessed by Lady Luck. Literally.

The Day of the Dead was a celebration that actually lasted for three days. Hadria and Gellert spent the first day roaming around the marketplace and cemeteries, buying marigolds, _pan de muerto_ , sugar skulls and candied pumpkins, mostly because Hadria had asked for them and Gellert saw no reason not to buy them, even though they didn't have any dead Mexican relatives to honour and commemorate the death of. (Hadria knew that Gellert actually spoiled her quite a bit, not that she minded.)

Hadria also had a lot of fun making cardboard skeletons, painting them and decorating them with flowers. She became quite aware, after her sixth skeleton, that Gellert was beginning to regret letting a ten-year-old read anything about Death.

He left her to her own devices when he went out to get them some dinner. Hadria made sure to fill his room with skeletons then. She included floating skull-shaped lanterns because she thought they looked beautiful. When she was done, she went into her room, which was joined to his by a door. If Gellert ever noticed the wards on her door, he never mentioned it. But he very well might not have had the opportunity to find out about them, because Hadria was sure she made them untraceable to all who are Living, and he never tried to enter her room without her permission. Not since she told him in a rare fit of childish tantrum that she wanted her privacy.

Fifteen minutes later, the preparations were complete. The bedside table had been shifted to the end of the room and covered in a red cloth. A black and white muggle photograph featuring James and Lily Potter was placed on a box on the table against the wall. The table was decorated with marigold blossoms. An offering of pan de muertos and candied pumpkin was laid in front of the photograph. Then Hadria lit two candles on either side of the photograph.

Surprisingly, there came a light breeze from nowhere that felt safe and comforting, and Scáth appeared beside her soon after, telling her that her parents were amused and listening, since she hadn't actually meant to contact the Realms of the Dead. She spent the next hour chatting with the spirits of her parents, though she could only feel them as they were invisible to her Living eyes. Their replies could not be physically heard, but she could hear their thoughts in her head.

A loud curse was heard sometime later, heralding her dear guardian's return. Hadria said goodbye to her parents and went to the door. He was late, as usual, and Hadria knew it was because he was a pureblood gentleman and was very charismatic to people he barely knew, which meant making small talk with strangers all the time. (Now people who were close to him, on the other hand, got to see his less charming sides. But Hadria thought it was an honour to get to see the flaws of one who looked so carefree most of the time.)

A peek outside revealed Gellert trying to get over the heart attack he had received upon seeing his room filled with skulls and skeletons, all grinning happily at him under flowery bonnets with painted faces. Hadria personally thought that he let his guard down too easily around her.

Hadria had grown on Gellert, as the Grim had so aptly described it. She didn't realise it at first, but he had grown on her too, despite the whole Dark Wizard thing. Because despite whatever Magic had told her about the Dark Arts, it had still been hard for her to get rid of some of her prejudices against his use Dark magic. She managed, in the end, especially after she realised that it was the intentions that really mattered, and was reminded that she had performed two out of the three Unforgivables before... (A phrase came to her mind then, in response to that thought, four words that she used to think was applicable, but later realised the negative implications that came with it.)

In any case, Hadria still recalled the time when Gellert had thrown picked her up by the back of her shirt when she was five-turning-six, like a cat picking up a kitten, and threw her out of the hut they had rented in Mongolia, for accidentally setting the kitchen on fire.

She had then wandered into the nearby Wizarding village, where she knew she would be welcomed by the villagers. The village was small, in the way that everyone knew what everyone else had for breakfast, lunch and dinner last Tuesday. She was known there as the niece of the researcher visiting the area. She played with the horses, had tea with the old lady selling falcons, and went firewood-gathering in the woods with some of the village boys. All of them were older than her. Some of them babied her while others liked to make fun of her. She hadn't really mind either ways. To her, it was the natural behavior of boys after all. (Of course, she didn't know better back then.)

As it happened, she wandered a little too far from the village kids at some point in time, and the boys who didn't like her (because she should be at home playing with dolls, not doing boy-stuff) didn't notify the others until it started to get dark and all of them got worried. And the boys who didn't like her weren't so cruel as to want a little girl to get lost in the woods at night.

Little Hadria had been mostly safe throughout her time in the woods, aside from the obvious fact that she was lost. She was quite miserable when she stumbled upon a strange large humpbacked creature that had horns. The thing had then began chasing her, and would have wounded her very badly with its horns within seconds, for her legs were short and she was tired. But before Hadria met her almost-certain doom, there was an incoherent yell, a flash of green light, the sound of someone—a woman—screaming faraway, and the strange creature fell to the ground and did not get back up.

Hadria remembered running into the arms of her guardian, sobbing with fright, apology and relief. And Gellert had carried her all the way to the village, where the village boys were waiting for them, some of them looking like they had been stung by hexes, awkwardly murmuring reassurances and words of comfort as he did so. Then he carried her back to the hut, and never let her out of his sight for the next three months.

When Hadria was a little older, and thought back on that day, she never questioned his rash decision to throw a small kid out of the house in a fit of anger. She never bothered about why he had taken so long to find her, or why the village boys kept giving her guardian dirty looks every time they saw him. Because all that mattered was that he had come for her in the end. And Hadria later on observed, that he never failed to protect her from harm, no matter how many times he did anything that might potentially endanger her.

"He probably thinks of you as a kitten that pees everywhere, mutilates all his furniture and breaks everything else, but too damn innocent and adorable to really get rid of," Scáth had told her when she told him about this incident during his next visit. She'd been clueless about what he really meant then, and had simply concluded that Gellert's Annoying Voice (whose name was Conscience) was louder and more annoying than most. Of course, she knew better now. Not that her previous assumption was any less false.

"D'you like them?" Hadria questioned in an innocent voice while nibbling on a _pan de muerto_.

"They are... artistic. But I prefer it when there aren't so many," Gellert replied, giving the skull-lantern floating before him a glare of disdain, probably holding back the full extent of his objection to her weirder behavior, as he had been doing ever since he had nearly upset her the year before when he first got the Boggart. Then he turned and frowned at her. "Who said you could eat that? It's time for dinner."

"You didn't say I couldn't. You only said no chocolate before dinner. And besides, Mum gave me permission," Hadria retorted impishly. Gellert blanched.

" _Mum?_ "

"Yeah, you know, the nice lady who gave birth to me?" Hadria replied absently as she looked at the takeaway he brought back. "Nothing hot, right?"

"Spicy," Scáth automatically corrected, padding out of the room behind her. "'Hot' is too vague."

Gellert sighed when he remembered that it was the anniversary of the Potters' deaths. He ran a hand through his hair, before taking out the food he brought back. "No, fussy brat. Nothing spicy."

After the meal, Hadria was about to return to her room when she suddenly turned around with a cheeky grin, "I forgot to tell you... Dad said to tell you that 'you're doing a less-than-ideal job but thank you'."

Gellert was silent for a moment, gazing at her with an expressionless face before smiling softly and reaching out a long arm to ruffle her raven's nest hair. "Tell him I'm doing nothing for him."

"Selfish Gerwald," Hadria chided while trying to flatten the mess of her hair.

"Sometimes I wonder at your powers of deduction," Gellert laughed.

The next day, Gellert had something else to wonder about.

...

Hadria knew it was bad to meddle with the Laws of Life, Death and Magic. Being the Master of Death did not exempt her from all of them. So she was extra careful whenever she experimented in Alchemy and the Dark Arts. But sometimes, things go wrong. And Hadria was pretty sure it was Chaos's doing.

Hadria was ten, or at least, her body was. Her soul was two hundred and ten years old, though she got a feeling that instead of a year being added each year, a couple of years was being subtracted off with each passing birthday, because she did not feel old, nor wise, nor calm and tranquil as she once did.

Well, to start from the 'beginning', she stopped aging after she turned hundred. So for another hundred years, she had looked somewhat old, with pale wrinkled skin and silver hair. Then she had died, and her soul's appearance took the form of her middle-aged self. And when she recovered her past life's memory, she felt like she was in her thirties. And after her tenth birthday, she felt like she was in her twenties.

Hadria wished she could asked Life and Time about this, but she highly doubted she would get a chance to talk to any familiars belonging to the two of them. Mostly because she couldn't speak the language of Phoenixes.

Back to the point, Hadria felt like a young adult trapped in the body of a ten-year-old... most of the time. Because sometimes, she didn't even have to act like she was only a child. Her body had its own ideas, and her physical brain influenced her mind and decision-making far more often than she liked it to. So when her physical body decided that when faced with something totally _Wrong_ , creepy and out of control, she should panic and run screaming to her guardian, Hadria found herself swept along and caught up in the irrational behavior of a ten-year-old.

It was dusk when this whole thing occured. The sun had just set, and the sky was a rich navy blue. The moon was large and full, bathing the lantern-lit streets in silver. Children were milling about, dressed in costumes and going from door to door, asking for treats—a newer tradition due to the influence of Halloween. Hadria had been one of them, for a while, dressed as a black dog, or wolf pup.

It was fortunate for the Grinsens, that there were no one around when it happened, or mass obliviation would have been required. Gellert was inspecting a chamber tomb in an old Wizarding graveyard when she came tearing through the barrow, all black and furry, a litter of piglets running after her.

"Gerwald! _Help!_ Don't just stand there!"

Gellert stared at the piglets. Pale pink, chubby and generally cute... If not for the fact that they had black eyes that glinted in the semi-dark and disproportionate bodies. It certainly said something when Gellert's first response was, "Aren't they your new pets?"

Evidently, he had gotten used to Hadria finding Dark creatures and keeping them. Hadria was not amused.

" _What?_ "

"The Nogtails. Now why are you hiding behind me?"

"Those aren't _Nogtails!_ " Hadria exclaimed, almost hysterically, her voice edging towards a higher pitch, much to her displeasure.

Gellert stared at the piglets, and realised that they were actually bone white—their pinkish hue were due to the red flames that he had lit the barrow with, their eyes were not narrow, but big and round with no whites. A few of them had lolling tongues that had a blue tint. One of them had a skeletal tail, and another had a missing leg. And the cool musty air in the tomb was getting steadily colder.

"Little Hydra, what... are they?"

"I don't know! There were three of them at first, then they _multiplied!_ "

"How did you come across them and what do you mean by 'multiplied'?"

"Uh... I was experimenting with um... the stuff in the books you gave me. The one that was called _Las Animas._ They were originally stillborn piglets that Noh helped me to find. Anyway, I uh... left them in my room to join the other kids to get treats and then uh... they found me. I think uh... they might have uh... 'Turned' the other piglets."

Gellert made a sound that Hadria thought might be an excellent show of restraint. She knew that if she had been in his shoes, she would've been swearing like a sailor.

"What was involved in their creation?" Gellert demanded.

Hadria frowned in thought. "Uh... My blood? Four little finger bones from four hanged men, a raven's feather, nine wishbones from nine magpies, copal incense, a mandrake root, some verbena and dried Mexican marigold. And of course, the dead bodies of the piglets. And a spell incantation that goes like, um, _daemon tlacatecolotl_."

"Don't forget wearing necklaces and bracelets made of shells and dancing around the dead piglets like a headless chicken," chuckled Scáth, appearing from the shadows. Hadria glared at the Grim.

"I do not dance like a headless chicken!" she retorted. Then froze. "You were watching?"

"Yes," said Scáth lazily. "By the way, you just need to envelop them with your Patronus. That should 'exorcise' them. Next time, try using dogs or cats. Or even rabbits. Pig Dementors are just so _unbecoming_."

Hadria and Gellert stared at the Grim, and it was the former Dark Lord that reacted first.

"Pig Dementors?!" He whirled around to glare at the girl hiding behind him.

"It was an accident! I swear!" Hadria protested.

"You created _Dementors_ by _accident?!_ "

"I didn't actually expect that ritual to work! And besides, I didn't even complete it!"

"You left the ritual _before_ completing it?! Do you know how _dangerous_ that is?! Witches and wizards have _died_ because they decided to abandon a _Dark_ ritual like yours midway! And _don't laugh_ , Scáth! You're a bad influence on her! I can't believe you're _encouraging_ her to create more of those infernal _Soul-Eaters!_ She's only _ten!_ Hadria Jamie Potter Grinsen, you are not going to perform any ritual _remotely Dark_ without my permission until you come of age, ever again! Do you hear me, young lady?! You're lucky Scáth seems fine with it! Otherwise you might as well be meddling in the Forbidden Arts!"

Hadria's wand was confiscated for a month after that.

* * *

((And Gellert didn't find out that she could perform wandless magic until the day she enchanted her peers in Egypt.

He had wanted her to try making friends with kids her age, and she had charmed them with her wild spirit and merry laughter, and Gellert saw the influence he had on her for the first time, for her behavior and mannerisms were similar to his when he was around... well, almost anyone except her.

He returned her wand to her after seeing her cast a Levitation Charm on some wooden boards wandlessly and silently, while introducing her new friends to the science-fiction-turned-reality of 'hoverboards'.

But Hadria later realised that she had impressed her new friends a little too well, and they had become adoring fans instead. She Obliviated them afterwards and decided not to interact with them ever again.

And Gellert despaired over her wonderful potential as a leader combined with her unfortunate dislike for fame.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference about mortality in this fanfiction (which is partially canon, partially own interpretation of the Potterverse for the purpose of this fic):
> 
> Amortal - Spirits like the Grim, boggarts, lethifolds and poltergeists that are souls that naturally exist without a living body, and soulless creatures like Dementors that arise from the giving of a fresh corpse Death energy.
> 
> Immortal - Living creatures like Phoenixes that are blessed with Life magic and given Time's blessing.
> 
> Mortal - Living things that will die some day or another, either naturally or by being killed. Inclusive of the 'Living Dead'.
> 
> Postmortal - Souls that have departed the Living but refused Death, also known as ghosts, and spirits that have lost their physical bodies.
> 
> Transmortal - The Master of Death


	7. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadria makes friends, meets a Cerberus puppy, and gains a new pet.

**Chapter Seven: New Friends**

* * *

_"Cui Fortuna favet multos amicos habet." He whom Fortune favors has many friends. —Latin Proverb_

* * *

The streets of Magical Athens were narrow and labyrinthine, paved with slabs of sun-dried clay or limestone, surrounded by shop-houses made of a variety of materials that suggested a haphazard mesh of old and modern materials—wood, clay, limestone, marble and glass. The higher-class sections of Wizarding Acropolis were less of a beautiful mess, with buildings made mainly of white marble walls and floors made of marble and mosaic tiles. The whole place was just like any other Wizarding city or town in terms of atmosphere. There was magic humming in the air for those sensitive enough, witches and wizards walked about, going about their daily lives, with the agora bustling with life and activity, crowded with shoppers and merchants in the marketplace.

Meanwhile, the Grinsens weaved their way through the morning crowd, and made their way to the House of Aether. It was a grand building belonging to an old family that died out and the House was now used as a place for various purposes, featuring a smaller marketplace in its courtyard and an area for people in the neighbourhood to hang out. The main purpose for Gellert to drag Hadria there was for her to make another attempt at interaction with fellow children her age.

" _Kalimêra_ , _Kyrie_ Gerwald, how are you?" a lady smiled at them near the entrance of the courtyard. She had light olive skin, dark brown hair like chocolate, and hazel eyes. Hadria recognised her as the wife of the man who owned the neighbourhood pet (read: dangerous pets) shop.

" _Kalimêra, Kyria_ Adrasteia, I'm fine, thank you. You're beautiful as ever. How's the _Kerberos_?" Gellert replied with a charming smile and bright blue eyes. Hadria counted to three before Mister Damianos appeared behind Adrasteia, a strained smile on his face.

"The _Kerberos_ is fine, _Kyrie_ Grinsen. What business do you have here today?" Damianos said. Hadria sighed.

"Oh, I'll be leaving Little Hydra here for the day. Mind helping me keep an eye on her?" Gellert replied easily, unaffected by the man's hostile tone.

"Of course! Hydra's so sweet. Such a dear," Adrasteia laughed jovially. Hadria liked the both of them, husband and wife. They were very kind to her and she often visited their shop to look at the pets sold there. Their recent addition, a Cerberus puppy, was still being toilet-trained.

"Thank you very much," Gellert said genially, still smiling. "Come, Hadria. Let's get some breakfast before I leave."

As they walked over to a nearby makeshift stall selling pita bread, bougatsa, spanakopita and koulouri, Gellert muttered to Hadria, "Rather stiff, isn't he?"

"You were flirting with his wife, Gerwald," Hadria chided.

"A compliment does wonders, dear Hydra," Gerwald replied with a grin. "It's not always plain flattery. Besides, I've no interest in his wife. I treat most ladies the same way."

"Right. Of course. Scáth told me you once had a relationship with a _wizard_ ," Hadria replied cheekily. Scáth had told her no such thing, but the Grim would cover for her knowledge of things she shouldn't know anyway.

Gellert glared at her, his usually merry face now scowling. Hadria knew he wasn't really angry though. Just annoyed.

"Scáth should keep his jaws shut sometimes," Gellert retorted. "And I did not have a relationship with anyone. I did have a wizard friend who _might_ have had the idea we were together though."

Hadria gave him a playful look. "You must have led him on then."

"Why is it always my fault?" Gellert demanded exasperatedly. Hadria chuckled but did not reply him.

" _Kalimêra_ , Mister! Two bougatsa please," she said to the bread-seller, a wide beaming smile on her face, her green eyes catching the morning sun and shining with an emerald light that she learned would captivate and enchant the average person, Muggle, Witch or Wizard.

"That would be four Sickles for you, young lady," the bread-seller replied, handing her the bougatsa in two separate paper-bags with a cheerful smile, despite the fact that it should have been six Sickles instead. Gellert chuckled to himself as he paid for the bread. He wasn't sure when the girl had begun adopting his mannerisms, but she was becoming quite good at charming people.

"Alright. Now be good and don't get into trouble while I'm gone. I'll be back and pick you up by dinner," he told her as he took his breakfast from her.

Hadria made a face. "Can't I come with you to Olympia?"

"No, you may not. I'm taking Geist there and you know how he is about two people riding him."

"What about Nacht?"

"Nacht will be staying with you. Hardly anyone can see him... You can't see him. It's best if we do not bring any attention to the fact that we have an invisible winged horse with us. Most do not take kindly to Thestrals."

Hadria wisely kept her mouth shut about seeing Thestrals. They had been invisible to her until she turned eight, and she didn't want to explain to Gellert when she had seen anyone die.

"Fine. Go play with Thanatos or whatever. See if I care," she said instead.

"I'm going to the Temple of Zeus. Not Thanatos," Gellert replied. "I'm not sure if I can survive an encounter with Death."

Hadria grinned. "Good, 'cuz I'll miss you. Bring back a piece of lightning for me if you can?"

Gellert gave her a hug and a merry smile. "If I can. I'm going there to do some magical research though, not seek an audience with any High Entity, let alone the Personification of the Sky."

"Don't get struck by lightning or something," Hadria said, wishing him a safe journey. Then Gellert prompted her to go make some friends.

He watched her as she dodged through the crowd, nearly crashing into some crates of fruits, yell out an apology and ran off again towards the area where other children were sitting around a storyteller regaling tales in the simplest Greek, laughing all the way, her dark hair wild and flying freely behind her, bright eyes sparkling with the exhilaration of her reckless running. He did not fail to notice how many eyes followed her small frame as she passed, entranced by her. Though they probably did not know exactly what captivated their attention.

Gellert knew it was her appearance, coupled with her free spirit that shone through her eyes and her magic that swirled around her, subtly affecting those around her without her knowledge. He would have to teach her how to reign in that magic once she got her Hogwarts letter. Though he himself went to Durmstrang, he felt that Hogwarts would probably be more suited for her. She could help him keep an eye on Albus, gain useful connections in her magical homeland, and it would be easier to make use of her celebrity status there in Hogwarts and Magical Britain while observing the happenings there, political climate, war status and all... Which was the whole point of adopting her in the first place. To gain an advantage over the Wizarding world and have a good laugh when Albus finds out about the adoption of his precious Chosen One.

(Those weren't the main reasons, however, as he had been reminded by Scáth before he accepted that he wasn't as Dark Lord-ish as he liked to think. He was also afraid, though he would never admit it, afraid that she would get influenced by the teachings at Durmstrang. Though the school was not inherently Dark, it was no doubt Darker than Hogwarts, and he did not want her tainted by anything Forbidden, which was likely to happen if she studied there, considering how she could nearly do Forbidden Magic without intending to... If she went Durmstrang, Gellert had a feeling she would end up summoning a Dark Spirit by the end of her first year, accidentally terrorize every student and teacher by second year, and get the school closed down by her third. Though he wasn't really too concerned about the school. They'd kick her before she could do much damage, he reckoned. Yet, something about her messing with anything Forbidden did not sit well with him. Perhaps it was because he could not deny that he had a heart, and that he loved Hadria, his sweet little child, despite not wanting to think of himself as a father.)

After Gellert left, Hadria spent one and a half hours listening to the storyteller recount glorious tales of valour and honour, of clever heroes slaying fearsome snake-haired women, and riding winged horses to victory. When the storytelling was over, Hadria was greeted by two boys and a girl. The girl and one of the boys seem to be around her age. The other boy looked a couple of years older.

" _Geia'sou_ ," the older boy said. He was a fair bit taller than her. "You're a foreigner, aren't you?"

"Yes?" Hadria replied with an amused smile. The boys exchanged a glance and the girl glared at them before glancing back at her.

"Don't mind them. They're usually not this rude. Would you like to join us? We're going to see the Oracle. She's in the next courtyard, and she's offered to Speak the future for us kids for a small price today as it's gonna be her last day here."

Hadria blinked. This was unexpected. But...

"Sure, why not?" She already had a Prophesy about her already. What could go wrong?

Along the way, Hadria dropped by Adrasteia's stall (she had a proper shop, but sometimes, she and her husband would come to the marketplace or the House of Aether to sell their more exotic breeds of pets) to tell her where she was headed.

"You know them?" Polys, the other boy, asked. They had introduced themselves as Kastor and Polydeukes, named after the famous twins in Greek mythology. Polys was the younger one, while Kastor was the older brother. The girl was called Thaleia. From what Hadria had gathered, she was Polys's childhood friend.

"Yep. I passed by their shop last week and have been visiting the animals they sell every day since," Hadria replied blithely. Polys and Kastor gave her odd looks and so did Thaleia.

"What is it? Have I got something on my face?"

The three of them looked at one another, then converged onto her. The boys had eyes shining with curiosity and excitement.

"So, do they really have a _Khimaira_?"

"I heard they took in a _Hippokampos_! Is it true?"

"Have you seen the _Kêrboros_? Is it huge? Is it fierce?"

"They say _Kyrie_ Damianos is actually the reincarnation of _Herpōn ho Deimos_! Have you—"

"Have you not visited the their shop before?" Hadria interrupted their stream of questions.

"We're not allowed. It's too dangerous for anyone below seventeen to see the animals they keep there," Thaleia explained. "You don't look seventeen though."

Hadria recalled the Greek sign outside the door of the pet shop. She couldn't read much Greek—though she had now picked up a few phrases here and there—so she had just ignored it and walked in. And had gotten ambushed by an adolescent Griffin.

"Oh... Their animals like me. Well, most of them. There was this winged foal that didn't like me for some reason..." Hadria laughed sheepishly.

The rest of the walk to the Oracle was mostly silent, but Hadria kept receiving looks of awe from the boys. The girl merely looked wary.

"You keep glancing at me like I might spit fire. I assure you, I'm not a dragon," Hadria finally said to Thaleia with a raised eyebrow and a smirk tugging at her lips.

The girl laughed, relaxing, as Hadria had expected. "No, it's not that. Your name may sound similar to 'Hydra', but you don't have scales. It's just that the creatures in _Parádeisos ton Th'hríon_ are supposed to be quite dangerous. If the animals do not bother you, wouldn't that mean that you're more dangerous than them?"

"Maybe I'm just so insignificant that they don't deem me worth their effort of mauling or whatnot. And anyway, there aren't any Chimeras, unlike what Polys seems to think," Hadria replied with a grin. "I think the adults are just being extra cautious about letting children enter the shop."

Thaleia looked like she took Hadria's word for it, and they chatted about other things until they reached the second courtyard, looking down at the open space from the steps they were standing on.

The Oracle was seated in the middle of the smaller courtyard, upon an elaborate silk carpet. People crowded around her as a man tried to haggle with her for a Speech. She had caramel hair and tanned skin, and was wearing a deep purple woollen cloak over robes the colour of sunset.

"She looks warm," Polys mumbled and Thaleia raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, the colour of her clothes. And that cloak," he elaborated.

"You would be warmer if you had listen to _Mamá_ and brought your scarf," Kastor snorted and cast a Heating Charm on his younger brother, before looking over at Hadria. "Aren't you cold? "

"Nope. My clothes are warmer than they look," Hadria replied absently, keeping an eye on the crowd before them. "Oh look! The man's gone away. The Oracle's no longer busy."

There was a lot of jostling as the four children squeezed through the crowd to get down to the front, and the children forgot about the suitability of Hadria's clothes for winter.

Hadria was wearing her 'cloak' over black robes with green and gold trimmings. The robes by themselves wouldn't have been warm enough in the Greek winter, but she had a Lethifold's help. Noh typically had a cold temperature and was comfortable to wear in summer. In winter, Hadria simply fed the creature more (his diet under Hadria's care usually consisted of pigeons or fish. Hadria would feed then him live goats in winter, though he had a preference for deer) and the Lethifold would become sleepier and thicker after a big meal. His body temperature also rose with the amount of meat he eats (something about energy and digestion of food).

Hadria had thus taken to using Noh as a cloak everywhere, and the creature didn't really mind. He enjoyed cuddling (Gellert said it was the wrong word because cuddling implied a degree of cuteness and he felt the Lethifold was not and Hadria insisted otherwise) Hadria, probably because she was warm-blooded non-food, and hence, essentially, a long-lasting source of warmth for the creature which seemed attracted to heat. However, he would sometimes nibble at her or her clothes like a goat, and she would either threaten to feed him to Nacht or set her Patronus on him if he didn't behave. The nibbling would stop for a while after that.

"So, come for a Speech, have you?" the Oracle said when the children reached her. Her voice was warm, and her dark eyes were lit with stars.

"How much does it cost?" Hadria asked. The lady had a few silk bags placed around her, but Hadria could not tell if it contained money or something else.

"Thirteen Sickles for an ordinary Divination, one Galleon and seven Sickles for a full Reading," the Oracle replied. "But if you wish for a Speech, then you will pay the price after the Speech. The cost of a Speech will depend on the Great Kybele herself. Some, like the man earlier, will be made to pay by material methods, such as gold or animal sacrifices, usually a calf. Others pay by other means, such as the giving of a memory."

Hadria understood from the books she had read that Cybele was the the Great Mother Goddess in Greece. She wasn't sure how that translated to the Higher Entities.

And so a curious Hadria said, "I'll have a Speech then."

"What? But the price!" Thaleia protested.

"Today, for you children, I will intervene on your behalf and you will only need to pay half the price," the Oracle offered kindly.

"But you can't pay half a memory," Kastor pointed out.

"No, but the Great Kybele can take a memory of less value instead," replied the Oracle. "So what will it be?"

The children looked a little hesitant. In the end, Thaleia and Polys paid for an ordinary Divination while Kastor opted for a Speech.

"Alright, who will like to go first?" the Oracle asked.

Polys went first, and asked if he should go to Beauxbatons to study next year. The Oracle reached out a hand. A little-owl swooped down on light wings and perched on her hand. Then the owl took to flight again, giving a querulous call as it went.

"A wise choice," the Oracle said after the owl left. "But you may want to pick up a bit of French before you go."

Polys flushed with embarrassment while Thaleia giggled. Kastor rolled his eyes.

"How did that work?" Hadria asked the Oracle, thinking about Trelawney, tea leaves and crystal balls. She knew they worked for those who had the Gift of Sight, and Trelawney's Sight was dormant most of the time. But summoning a bird and what?

The Oracle smiled at her and winked. "The Signs are there for Reading. Those who carry the Gift of Sight will be able to See the decisions of the _Moirai_."

Hadria groaned. The answer didn't really help at all.

"Now who's next?" the Oracle questioned.

Thaleia got her question about love answered by a magpie and the Oracle with knowing smiles. She too blushed deeply when she realised that even though she had asked vaguely about relationships, the Oracle had somehow sensed her true question.

Kastor was next, because Hadria decided to go after him and see how it goes first.

The Oracle took look at him with intensely focused eyes, after he had asked about the electives he should take and how it would affect his career (Hadria personally thought that thirteen was too young an age to think about ones career but to each his own). Then her dark eyes glazed over, before focusing again with colourless eyes and she whispered loudly in strings of Greek. When it was over, her eyes returned to normal.

"What was that?" Hadria asked the others. "I could only catch a word here and there."

Kastor looked at her blankly, while Polys and Thaleia looked amazed.

"Oh don't worry about him. A tiny piece of memory was taken from him. That's all. He'll be alright once he gets over the shock of losing something he can't remember." the Oracle said, explaining Kastor's blank look. "And I believe I Spoke about his future as a Healer. I think he'll take some time accepting that as well."

Hadria frowned. "What's wrong with being a Healer?"

"The Oracle compared him to Eleithyia," Polys chuckled, and upon seeing Hadria's bemused expression, elaborated. "She's the goddess of childbirth."

Hadria laughed merrily at that, and Kastor, who seemed to have gotten over his dazedness, scowled at her. "Well it's your turn, little Nymph."

"Nymph is an apt term, I think," the Oracle commented. "You are the Hydra I have heard of, am I right?"

Hadria blinked. "You've heard of me?"

"I have studied many cultures, and travelled all over Europe. I have seen and heard many things, and I recognise the Sign of the Sun, shaped into the form of Zeus's Weapon from the Sky. It adorns your brow like a Kiss from the Heavens... or perhaps a Kiss from Death," the Oracle said, sharp eyes focused on her choppy bangs, as if she could see through her hair to find the famous mark on her forehead. "I do not have to be an Oracle to know that you will have a hard road ahead."

Thankfully, she did not say more about the subject after that, and left the other three children confused.

"What would you like for me to Speak about, little Nymph," the Oracle asked instead. Hadria shrugged, glad for her new ability to hide her thoughts and feelings. Otherwise, her face would be a picture of shock and disconcertion.

"Anything about my future, in general?"

"Your future..." the Oracle repeated, and her eyes changed colour. This time, however, she spoke not in Greek, but English.

**" _The Three who are Favoured have arrived... Their Fates are intertwined, the One who deserves Death's Freedom, the One who earned Death's Invitation, and the One who inherited Death's Temptation... Born as the sun dies at Summer's End, born from the ashes of Hallows' Eve... And they will gain what they never had, but must lose the chains of a past that never passed... For they have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, but to free the future they must first free themselves... I could repeat the first line again for dramatic emphasis but I doubt you'll appreciate it. You have Our Blessings, so fear not your Fate, focus on the Present of Time, Luck will be with you, until we meet again._ "**

Hadria stared, and stared. Did Fate just talk to her through a mortal? Was that what she had done when she gave Trelawney the original Prophesy? Does this Prophesy overwrite the other?

"That... has never happened before," the Oracle mused as she regained her senses, then gazed into Hadria's emerald eyes with a dark fire in hers. "Looks like we can expect great things from you, young Hydra. And I expect that I will not be the only one who will say this to you."

"Thank you, for your time and your Speech," Hadria merely said, feeling a little overwhelmed and wondering what Fate had done this time. (Don't worry? How could she not worry?!) "What will my payment be?"

The Oracle laughed, a musical sound. "Ah, little Nymph, but you have already paid, I think, in a past that will not pass."

Hadria wasn't quite sure if she interpreted the Oracle's words correctly, and vaguely wondered if Fate Gifts her Children with the urge to be unnecessarily cryptic.

"Did anyone else understand what she said?" Kastor asked no one in particular as they left the Oracle.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Polys replied and glanced at Hadria. "The Prophesy was for you. Surely you know what it meant?"

"It sounded really important. Like an omen that signals the End of the World," Thaleia added, eyes wide.

Hadria shrugged. "I'm probably supposed to know who are the Three mentioned in the prophesy, but I'm not sure."

"Really?" Kastor pressed.

Hadria frowned at him. "Really."

"You must be very special..." Thaleia commented with wonder. Hadria nearly groaned aloud. One guy suspicious about her, one girl in awe of her... Sounds familiar.

"Little Hydra!"

The children looked at Adrasteia waving at them as they stepped back into the first courtyard. Hadria hurried towards her and the other children followed hesitantly.

"You look rather excited, _Kyria_ Adrasteia. What's the good news?" Hadria asked when they reached her stall. _Kyrie_ Damianos was nowhere to be seen.

Adrasteia laughed. "Oh, it's just that we've found someone who would like to purchase the _Kerberos_. Damianós will be travelling tomorrow to meet our new customer. Good thing too, since the puppy will soon be too big for us to keep. Our darlings always grow up so fast!"

Some times, Adrasteia reminded Hadria of Hagrid in her passion for interesting animals. Not that she had any right to judge, considering how she seemed to have developed an affinity towards most magical creatures.

"But the puppy's only... what? Six months old?" Hadria questioned as she followed Adrasteia to the back of her makeshift stall, where curtains hid metal cages and glass tanks containing small animals, leaving the other children outside. There were falcons, lizards and tortoises, mice and hares. Of the magical variety, there was a grey Kneazle with sleeping on top of a cage containing a small white mouse with large red eyes, a fire salamander in the corner, nestled in magically contained fire, and three owls perched freely above the cages containing hares.

Leashed to a post was the Cerberus puppy which was sleeping at the moment, a magical lyre placed beside him, playing by itself. If he had been awake, he would have been running about the store as far as his leash would allow, and peeing everywhere. He resembled a full-grown Ancient Mollosus dog, but was twice the size, and had three heads instead of one. He was like a giant stuffed toy—large, cute, fuzzy and totally huggable.

"In a month or so, he'll be having a growth spurt, and by the time he's nine, he'll be the size of a full-grown _Kerberos_ ," Adrasteia said, scratching the puppy behind one of his six ears.

Hadria tried to imagine the puppy as a full-grown Cerberus and the image of a fierce and growling Fluffy kept coming to mind.

" _Me singchoreite!_ " someone called out from outside the curtained section of the stall, and Adrasteia hurried out to greet the potential customer. Hadria was left alone in a store full of animals.

Curiosity got the better of her, as usual, and Hadria found herself peering about the store, examining the various animals. She knew Adrasteia would not mind, as long as she did not actually discover a particularly dangerous animal that was meant to stay hidden.

After some snooping, Hadria found a covered cage in a corner behind a tortoise tank. When she lifted the black cloth covering the cage, runes lit up and dissipated. Hadria froze for a second, wondering what enchantments she had just lifted, then stared inside the cage. A large ferret-polecat-like creature stared back.

The animal had light ash brown fur with darker chocolate markings, and bright black eyes. It was only slightly smaller than a common otter. There was a half-eaten rat in the cage with it. And then, the animal opened its mouth.

"Scar-y. Scarry. Scaaaary!" This was followed by snickering.

Hadria frowned at the Jarvey, subconsciously rubbing the lightning-mark on her forehead. "Unoriginal prat."

"Death stink... Zombie!"

 _Eh… what?_ "Mutated skunk."

"Hairless ape."

"Better hairless than hairy. Though your fur would make a nice scarf, don't you think?" Here, Hadria smiled oh-so-sweetly at the Jarvey, who paled rapidly. In fact, it had turned a snowy white with a tint of palest gold.

Hadria couldn't help but burst out laughing at what looked like a large ferret in its winter coat. (Not to mention the fact that it reminded her of someone she knew in her previous life. Someone she would probably meet again in the future.)

Three heads poked in through the canvas flap by the side.

"Who were you talking to?" Polys asked curiously, as they looked about.

"Oh, this hilarious joker over here," Hadria replied, gesturing to the still-pale Jarvey who was now agitatedly backing away as much as its cage would allow.

"Ah, I see you've found the rude kid," Adrasteia commented from behind the three children. "Can't find a buyer for him. No end of insults. We're not even sure if he knows half of what he's saying."

The Jarvey snapped out a few Greek words at the shopkeeper, his fur colour returning to its original dark colour, which Hadria suddenly realised was a little odd.

"It's winter," she commented aloud, staring at the Jarvey's summer colours. Adrasteia came round to stand beside her and peered into the cage.

"If you're wondering about a Jarvey's coat, it's because its fur does not change colour according to the seasons, unlike its Muggle relatives. Its colour-change reflects how it feels, though it can sometimes change according to its will. Rather like a _khamailéōn_ , except that its colours only range between shades of brown, grey and white," Adrasteia explained, then gave her an inquisitive look. "What did you say to frightened him?"

Hadria grinned. "I just pointed out that he would make a nice fur scarf."

Adrasteia looked thoughtful. "You're the only one who gets along with him so far..."

"I won't say 'getting along' is the right description," Hadria interjected with a giggle.

Adrasteia smiled and continued, "Would you like to keep him? I can give him to you for free. His previous owner left him with us, in a hurry to get rid of the pesky brat, and it's doubtful that we'll find anyone else who'll have him."

It was actually quite a tempting offer. Hadria was quite pleased with the idea of having one more person to squabble childishly with, though she wasn't sure how Gellert would take it.

"Does he have a name?" Hadria asked.

"No... Not yet. You're welcome to name him," Adrasteia replied, as she rummaged through some boxes for Jarvey food.

Hadria eyed the Jarvey, who was glaring at her petulantly, but surprisingly—or not so surprisingly—silent.

"What do you think of 'Snag'?" Hadria asked the Jarvey, wondering how intelligent the creature was.

"Not hiccup," the Jarvey snapped, much to Hadria's bewilderment. It took her awhile to understand what the Jarvey was saying. She wasn't good with many languages, but she did learn some magical terminology from various countries, in particular, those pertaining to animals, courtesy of Gellert's teachings.

"I actually meant the English word, Snag. And now that I think about it, it suits you pretty well," Hadria laughed. "Well then, Snag you are."

The Jarvey gave her a glare. "Tyrant!"

"Well what name would you rather have, then?" Hadria threw at it.

"Greatest Lord and King Over all Snakes, Rats, Rabbits, Voles and Moles," the Jarvey automatically proclaimed. It was his longest speech yet. Five eyes stared at the overgrown ferret.

"That is one long title," Kastor finally commented.

"That is one egoistic _kounábi_ ," said Polys.

"It just… listed everything it considered as prey, didn't it?" Thaleia asked.

"… I think I'll just stick to 'Snag'," Hadria muttered and Adrasteia laughed.

Five minutes later, Hadria walked away from the shop, her three new friends by her side, and a caged Jarvey under her arm.

Kastor commented, "You know, when we saw you today, I don't think any of us expected you to be a _Psithyristís_ —"

"Sith-what?" Hadria interrupted.

" _Psithyristís_. Whisperer. It was a term used to describe Hermes, but now it has become the general term we use for people who have an affinity for animals. It is also sometimes used to for people who have an affinity for snakes in particular. I've heard some foreigners call it Parcel-speaker…?" Polys explained. "But it can still be used as its general meaning."

(Here, Snag snickered and Hadria shot him a look, wondering if he could somehow tell that she could actually speak Parseltongue. Did Parselmouths have a different smell?)

"But as I was saying, when we first approached you, we just thought it would be interesting to get to know a foreigner. Especially one who knows some Greek," Kastor went on.

Hadria scoffed. "My knowledge of Greek is about the same as that of the four-year-old children around here."

"How old are you?" Polys asked.

"Ten. I'll be turning eleven in eight months. Hey, that looks good!"

Thaleia glanced at the café, then looked at her oddly. "Did you not have breakfast?"

"Breakfast was hours ago," Hadria replied with a grin, (ignoring Snag's declaration of "Piiggg!"). "It's about lunchtime now anyway."

"Then we should head back to _Kyrie_ Adrasteia. She said she would be treating us to dessert, so we might as well have lunch with her," Thaleia said, and they went back into the shop.

They had lunch with Adrasteia, and a dessert of yiaourtopita (Greek lemon yogurt cake) served with ice cream and fresh fruits. Snag had a whole bowl of vanilla ice cream with orange peel preserves to himself. Hadria had a hard time trying to get the Jarvey to say thank-you to Adrasteia without insulting her at the same time.

When Gellert came back a few hours later, Hadria was still arguing with the Jarvey about basic manners while they (Hadria, Polys, Kastor and Thaleia) helped Adrasteia decorate her shop with posters of papyrus, featuring ink-drawn pictures of various animals.

Hadria only noticed Gellert's approach because Snag had suddenly stopped mid-insult, only to start chirping, "See gold head, so thick and heavy!"

She didn't even want to know if the Snag was calling her guardian an idiot, and instead, chose to observe the blonde man. She saw the moment when he caught sight of the Jarvey in her hands. The moment when his expression changed from cheerful to _oh-Merlin-no-don't-tell-me-it's-another-one_.

"That would be my guardian, Snag. So try and be less insulting, yeah?" Hadria muttered, knowing full well that the Jarvey wouldn't heed her advice anyway.

" _Kyrie_ Gerwald," Adrasteia greeted cheerfully from the shop when she spotted Gellert. "How was your trip?"

"Fruitful," the blonde wizard replied shortly, staring at Hadria. "Why is Hadria holding an overgrown ferret?"

Hadria had the decency to look sheepish. "Gerwald, meet Snag. Snag, meet Gerwald."

"Nugget-head!"

* * *

In the end, Hadria learnt a useful Lightning Ball Charm from Gerwald who discovered its existence among old texts in Olympia, and Snag learnt that if he "can't say something nice… don't say nothing at all."

* * *

 

Terms (courtesy of Google i.e. it may not be entirely accurate and this is spelled according to how I interpret the Greek alphabet and not the way it should be pronounced e.g. g may actually be pronounced as a y and b may be pronounced as a v. Also, I have placed apostrophes where I'm either not sure of whether it should be one word or two due to different sources e.g. geiasou/γεια σου, and where I think it would be helpful e.g. thhríon/θηρίων.):

Kalimêra - Good morning/Good day

Kyria/Kyrie - Mrs/Mr

Geia'sou - Hello (informal)

Herpōn ho Deimos - Herpo the Foul *according to harry potter wiki

Parádeisos ton Th'hríon - Paradise of (the) beasts

Me Singchoreite - Excuse me

Κounábi - Marten, but may refer to other similar looking Mustelids e.g. ferret, stoat etc

Other terms which seem obvious enough/can be guessed or otherwise inferred.

(If you see a term that looks foreign but is not in italics, its likely to be spelled in the 'English' form of the Greek word e.g. I wouldn't italicise Beijing just because it was originally a Chinese name.)

(If any Greek reads this and has anything to say/correct, please PM me or leave a comment~ In fact, the same goes for any other language I might use, thanks~)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a side-fic some time soon, a what-if one-shot on what would have happened in an alternate universe where Hadria gets a Basilisk instead of a Jarvey. Just an idea I played around with. Decided to have it posted for anyone bored enough to check it out.


	8. Back-to-School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Hadria to try her wings and Gellert might just experience the Empty Nest Syndrome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda filler, sorry about that, but I needed to have this out before I start on the next thing: Hadria meeting the old crew.

**Chapter Eight: Back to School**

* * *

_"Vade in pace." Go in peace. —Latin Phrase (Roman way of saying "Goodbye.")_

* * *

Gellert found himself rudely awoken one morning by a loud crash. The sound was nothing but ominous, considering the company he kept. It certainly said something that he still took his time getting out of bed. He wasn't too worried about what might have happened to Hadria—she seemed to be able to look after herself despite her alarming tendency of getting into trouble—and if anything in the house had been destroyed, well, it was probably too late to do anything about it. Unless it was a slow-acting sort of trouble, like a potion spill or—

There was the smell of something burning, and Gellert bolted into the hallway, only to trip and stop when he heard a loud and gleeful, "Gerwald! Guess what?"

Sighing, Gerwald found himself strolling into the kitchen, in no hurry now that it was clear that whatever it was, it was nothing too dangerous. He paused at the doorway, and stared, wondering when was he going to get used to anything that revolved around Hadria (it had been six years, so he wasn't feeling very hopeful).

"Hadria, that's Noh you're lighting."

Hadria looked up at her guardian and frowned a little. "Oh, um, yeah. Did you know when a Lethifold catches fire, the fire extinguishes by itself and leaves no trace of burning? It's kind of cool. I wonder if Fiendfyre will work since—"

"You shouldn't be conducting _dangerous_ and _potentially-harmful experiments_ on your _pet_ ," Gellert ground out. "And please, do not try using _Fiendfyre_. It's _very_ dangerous and you're too young to control it."

"Okay… Now what was I going to… Oh, yeah! Right," Hadria muttered, none too concern and clearly distracted. Her face then lit up, eyes all but glowing with excitement. "Guess what? My Hogwarts letter is here!"

* * *

_Ms H. Potter_

_The Little Sanctuary_

_Cornwall_

* * *

The letter was exactly as she remembered it, except for the address which seemed to only include her room and the county they were living in, leaving out the actual address of their house. She wondered if it was vague in this way due to the charms and wards Gellert had placed upon the building when they first moved in a month ago, having relocated to England for convenience sake.

With the letter came a list of school supplies for first-years. She read it over, and though the words were the same, there was something different… Something very important: Hadria was different.

"Gerwald?"

"Hmm?"

" _Students may also bring an owl or a cat or a toad_ ," she recited. "I don't have an owl or a cat or a toad. But I have a Lethifold and a Jarvey… Snag, stop wriggling and just take a nap, you're making my clothes itch."

Gellert gave her a sideways glance. "Are you planning to smuggle them in?"

"You're supposed to be the responsible one and say no," Hadria snorted.

"Don't snort—"

"It's unbecoming, I know, I know. But I doubt I could disguise Noh well enough to get past Dumbledore, though I might be able to bring Snag in if Dumbledore's feeling generous."

"I'm sure you'll be fine with Snag. You're his Golden Girl. That Lethifold is a Dark creature so that might be pushing it… We'll just have to get you a magical trunk with more than one compartment so you can keep Noh in one of them."

"Really? You'd do that?" Hadria gave Gellert a disturbing look of pure adoration (which he could never tell how much of it was genuine and how much was for the purpose of buttering him up). He scowled back at her.

"I just do not want that _thing_ staying with me when you're not around. It's your pet and you'd better take full responsibility of it. And your Grim had better not visit me unnecessarily while you're away either."

She laughed merrily and they entered Diagon Alley like that, one disgruntled blond wizard and a cheerful raven-haired girl.

They were undisturbed by anyone, as no one could recognise them as anyone famous—Gellert, because few remained who knew what he had looked like when he was young, and Hadria, because without her lightning-bolt-scar visible, all the public had on her were made-up stories and some vague guesses on what combination of her parents she'd be like. Gellert had cast Notice-Me-Not charm on themselves just in case anyway.

Their first stop was Gringotts, where they refilled their pouches without a trouble, followed by a trip to a shop selling magical trunks, where she spent some time choosing the right trunk—she didn't need one quite as ridiculous as Moody's (who needs seven compartments? A paranoid retired Auror, that's who), but she did require one where she could safely keep potentially illegal items. In the end, they got a five-compartment one that had a different lock for each, including a lock that responded to her magic the way a wand would, meaning that she was the only one who could open it.

That lock guarded a compartment in which she had placed her more questionable books (that Gellert had given her) as well as potions she had brewed that she was not supposed to have (such as the Felix Felicis). The pet compartment for keeping Noh (and possibly Snag but she still wasn't sure if the Lethifold would eat the Jarvey if left alone with him) was locked by a password in Parseltongue—the chosen word was appropriately ' **Whisperer** '. The library compartment (for regular books) required the answering of a riddle or question, similar to the Ravenclaw Tower, but she was able to set her own riddles and questions which meant that it might ask for something that only a time-traveller from the future could answer. The clothes compartment and the compartment for other items (such as regular potions and other assortments) were guarded by regular passwords—'Mithril' and 'Athelas' respectively, passwords she expected only Muggleborns with Ravenclaw tendencies could guess at.

Upon leaving the trunk shop, they went around Diagon Alley picking up Hadria's school supplies and packed them into the trunk they had bought.

At the clothes store, Hadria was disappointed that she hadn't been able to meet Draco Malfoy. She would have liked to see him again and compare him with the version she knew from before. She would also have liked to have him meet Snag and see if they end up competing over who can insult the other better.

(On a side note: Why did they need pointed hats? Nobody ever wore them. The only times she remembered fellow students wearing them were at the Start- and End-of-term feasts. What were they even for? The list said 'for day wear'. _Day wear._ When was the last time they updated the uniform section in the First year's supply list?)

After spending some time in Flourish and Blotts, which for them meant three hours, Gellert brought Hadria for a short detour into Knockturn Alley to get some books and items that they could not find in the Diagon Alley bookshops and Apothecary, and were of course, not in the booklist. It was Hadria's first time there as a customer, and it was a curious thing. Many things that she used to find creepy were now fascinating (aside from the old hags and other questionable people frequenting the area who still looked suitably creepy, as if they would like nothing better than to eat her up… Not that they could, even if they tried, but still).

Unfortunately, since the Pig Dementor Incident, Gellert had decided that it was unwise to let her get her hands on potentially dangerous items, be it Dark items or dangerous potion ingredients. Even if she could handle herself, there was no way he was going to risk the summoning of some ancient demon in an archaic Dark ritual or something. So Hadria had to pout and shuffle along when he refused to let her buy a shrunken head out of curiosity, nor did he allow her to even touch any Erumpent parts—tail, horn, exploding fluids and all.

When they passed by a shop selling bones and she had tried to go as near to the display window as she could without dirtying her face on the grimy glass, Gellert had merely dragged her along as if she was a misbehaving puppy. Though Hadria considered sneaking back to one of these shops one day, without even questioning if she could sneak away from Gellert or Hogwarts, the prices of most of the items there were beyond her budget even though the weekly pocket money she was given by him was quite a healthy sum and she had been saving most of it. (And she couldn't withdraw money out of Gringotts without Gellert knowing of it when he received the monthly statement).

Their next destination after leaving Knockturn Alley was to visit Ollivander's.

"We'll get you another wand—useful to have two on you, especially if one of them is illegal—then we'll get you an owl. I'll be expecting you to write back frequently," Gellert had said. Hadria was quite pleased to hear that, because it meant that she had a chance of getting her old friends—her wand and owl—back. That, and she would have two wands, which was uncommon but not unheard of, but what was almost unheard of was for the owner to be a child and the dormant Trace charm to be absent on one of them. (Probably because it was as legal as keeping pet Lethifolds—so unlikely that there probably wasn't even an explicit law against it).

Gellert had explained to her some time ago that there was a Trace charm on all legal wands sold in Britain. It only activates when two conditions are fulfilled: one, the owner of the wand is below seventeen, and two, had entered the Hogwarts express. The charm would then envelope the wand's owner, which meant that any magic cast by Wizarding folk around the wand's owner would be thereafter be tracked and monitored (and dismissed if mature Wizarding folk were in the vicinity), and the charm would only fail when the owner turned seventeen, because the nature of matured magic was different and the charm would slip off like summoning charms from The Invisibility Cloak. Obviously, the charm would also fail to activate if the wand's owner was already an adult. The loophole was that magical non-Wizarding folk, such as eccentric House-elves, could use magic around under-aged Wizarding folk and get away with it, leaving the young witch or wizard to take the blame.

(But the Trace on Gregorovitch's wands were tailored to activate only upon entrance to Durmstrang's school grounds.)

Which was how it led them to stand in the middle of the dimly-lit and dusty wand shop. The air in there was saturated with the magic that had accumulated from the natural magical radiation of so many wands, and Hadria briefly wondered if Ollivander was a bit odd as a result of overexposure to such magic.

The wand-choosing process was just as long as her very first one, and Hadria hoped she might get back her old wand. She had been rather fond of it. Wand after wand was tried, until the strange old man peered at her so intently with those odd pale eyes of his, his nose almost touching hers as he examined her. She could only stand there rather stiffly and wait for him to leave her personal space. When he did, he beamed almost creepily, and there was a silver gleam to his eyes.

"I thought that might be the case," he muttered to himself as he nodded mysteriously. He was soon eagerly rummaging through his wand collection again.

"Here, try this," he said, showing her another wand. It had a pale yellowish colour with a tint of sunset orange, like champagne, and the base of the wand—the handle—was fashioned into an irregular twisting shape that resembled tongues of flames.

When she picked it up, she could feel a familiar warmth spread through her hand, and she waved it once, producing a stream of golden sparks. There was a delighted applause by Ollivander and a quieter one by an amused Gellert.

"Oh, wonderful! Yes, very wonderful indeed. I had a feeling… How curious…" Ollivander said.

"What's curious?" Hadria asked, wondering if he would repeat the same thing he did the first time around. He did not.

"I have a very good memory, Ms Potter," he hummed as he carefully packed her wand back into its box. "I remember every wand I've made, every wood and core I've used. Your new wand—rowan and phoenix feather, twelve inches, reasonably pliable—was one I crafted a few years ago, relatively recent compared to most of my wands here. The phoenix tail feather in your wand is one of a pair from a particular phoenix who gave me just one other feather. Just one. And this other tail feather, curiously, resides in the wand that gave you that scar. Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches. I remember it well… And a wand chooses its wizard, or witch, in your case, and… well, I think we can expect great things from you, Ms Potter."

Here he leaned in, and whispered into her ear. "Did you know, a few years back, one of my creations caught fire. Yes, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple it was. The phoenix feather remained intact, of course, and with it, I crafted your wand. Hence the design of the flames, a mark of one born from the ashes, rather appropriate for a phoenix-feather wand, if I may say so. I chose rowan as the new wood, for it is a wood of protection and purity, and ideal for a dueller. Yes, I think we can indeed expect very great things from you…"

Hadria thought it was all very strange and suspicious and she could practically feel the Higher Entities' hands all over this, but she nodded politely and smiled as if there was nothing wrong at all with having powerful beings poking into her life like exasperating relatives.

They paid seven galleons for the wand and Gellert brought her to Eeylops Owl Emporium.

"How is it that whichever wand-maker you meet, you are bound to stir up abnormal reactions due to the wand that chooses you?" he asked her with a huff. It was a rhetorical question, though she answered it anyway with a cheeky, "I'm _special_."

He smacked her gently on the back of her head, and when she protested, he merely smirked and said, "Just making sure your head doesn't inflate too much."

Hadria had been told about her status in the Wizarding world when she turned ten. Of course, she knew this beforehand, but to Gellert's knowledge, he'd only informed her a year ago, as he didn't want 'her fame to get to her head' as he put it. She now had an egoistic mode, specially created just to annoy Gellert. He knew it was all just playful payback for letting her know about her fame so late, but he still got irritated by her occasional bouts of faux-narcissism anyway.

Once they were in the Emporium, Hadria automatically disappeared off in search of Hedwig. There were two snowy owls in the shop, one male, one female. The female one was slightly larger, with beautiful soft white feathers peppered with dark spots, a mean sharp black beak and glinting black talons peaking out from thick fluffy feathers. Her eyes were intelligent and a piercing golden yellow.

"A vicious one, she is," the shopkeeper said as he came behind her and inspected her choice. "Won't let anybody near her. I say take the male. Less fierce, lighter, and whiter too. Better choice for a little witch like you."

Hadria ignored him and reached out a hand to the regal bird, who eyed her dispassionately until she curtsied the way she had been taught. (She would never forget the precious memory of Gellert trying to teach her how to curtsy like a young lady. The demonstration had been priceless). The snowy owl then reached forward and gently nipped her fingers the way Hedwig used to do.

"There, she likes me," Hadria said with a brilliant smile at the shopkeeper who looked a little bemused.

"Right, then, I suppose, if your…"

"Guardian," she supplied.

The shopkeeper cleared his throat. "If your guardian is fine with it, that would be fifteen galleons. I usually charge twenty for snows, but she's been a troublesome one to take care of."

"Gerwald! Over here," Hadria called out and Gellert soon found his way to where she was.

"Can I have her?" she said as she stroked the owl who was now rubbing her head against Hadria's palm like a cat.

Gellert gave the snowy owl a once-over, and muttered, "Of all the owls in this shop, you just had to pick the most dangerous looking one."

"No, I picked her because she likes me," Hadria replied blithely.

He gave her a look. "That wasn't a question. And don't say you know because I know you do."

She pouted. "Why must you spoil my fun?"

"Because it's at my expense," Gellert sighed and paid the shopkeeper for the owl.

"What are you going to name her?" he asked as they left the shop.

"Hedwig?" Hadria suggested, but surprisingly, the owl glared at her.

"Not Hedwig?" The glare lessened.

"Fine. Uh… Hades? No? I guess not. Might work better if you were darker or Darker. How about Athena? Artemis? Hertha? _Vesta_? _Fortuna_? Circe's piglets! No, I wasn't planning on naming you _that!_  Dammit."

Gellert only watched on amusedly as his ward grew increasingly frustrated with her name-fussy owl. It was always pleasant change to see her frustrated.

Then the Jarvey woke up amidst all the fuss, and peaked out of Hadria's outer coat. He eyed the bird of prey distastefully before snapping, "Noisy salted fowl." To which the owl barked threateningly.

"Snag!" Hadria exclaimed, hit with a desperate dash of inspiration. "Give me a name! Just one word to describe her."

"Jill-fowl?" Snag questioned and Hadria nodded, hoping that she'd interpreted him correctly and he didn't actually mean to name the snowy owl 'Jill-fowl'.

"Winterberry," the Jarvey retorted. "Bloody, bald and cold."

Hadria blinked. Did he just wish death upon her owl?

"Winterberries are blood-red and leafless in winter," Gellert explained, still amused (and it was also a nice change to have the Jarvey insult someone else, even if it was just a bird). "It is a species of holly."

"Winterberry?" Hadria tried, turning to the owl in the cage. The owl glared back in a way that suggested she was questioning her owner's sanity.

"Um, Holly?" Hadria tried again, and the snowy bird fluffed up her feathers and seemed to settle down for a snooze.

"Hey, is that a yes? Holly?"

The owl did not respond.

"… I'm taking that as a yes."

* * *

The next month or so was spent divided between reading her school books, playing with Snag and Noh and sometimes Scáth, and attempting to persuade Gellert to let her smuggle a broom into Hogwarts (and didn't she sound like Malfoy when she did that? But she didn't care). Gellert was quite peeved by her insistence of having a broom, as she had never showed any inclination to play Quidditch prior to the Diagon Alley trip, though he admitted they'd never used a broom before as they had never needed to, so if she had any love for flying on broomstick, they wouldn't have found out. But they had passed by a store in Diagon Alley advertising for the Nimbus 2000, and she had been pestering him about it ever since. She wasn't even asking him for the latest Nimbus model, but she wanted a good broom all the same, and one that she could use at Hogwarts.

In the end, Gellert agreed to buy her a Nimbus 2000, but only if she gets chosen for a Quidditch team at Hogwarts, mainly because he wasn't sure how much of it was an impulsive need to try out broomstick-flying and how much was real interest. He figured he'd buy a Cleansweep Seven for her for Yule that year anyway, if she still expressed interest in flying after her first lesson at Hogwarts, so that she could practice with it before Quidditch try-outs in second year.

By the time September First came along, Gellert was quite sure he wouldn't miss the brat. The excitement she exuded like a crazy octopus-like aura increased every day and he was soon very tempted to just dose her with the Draught of Living Death until the time came for him to Apparate her to King's Cross. The only reason why he had decided against it was because he didn't have the cure at hand and would be far too troublesome to brew.

"Gerwald, Gerwald, Gerwald Gerwald GerwaldGerwald—"

He silenced her with a flick of his wand. A glance at the clock told him that they still had half an hour to spare. Unfortunately, Hadria had chosen to pester him about leaving since an hour ago, breaking the silence every now and then (whenever she succeeded in undoing the Silencing Charm non-verbally and she was getting better every time she did it).

"What about your Pointed Hat?" he asked, as if she hadn't interrupted with chirping his name at shortening intervals.

Hadria made a face, letting him know exactly what she thought of it.

"I don't care if you find the hat stupid. Even if nobody ever wears it, its in your supply list," Gellert retorted, though he found the hat stupid as well. Pointed hats were no longer in fashion for everyday wear when he went to school, and were only worn on traditional and formal occasions. He didn't remember Durmstrang ever having such a hat as part of the uniform set. The only hat commonly worn was a black winter one made of matted woolly fur, for practical reasons.

The sullen dark-haired girl stretched out a hand and a black conical hat came soaring through the door from somewhere upstairs. She grabbed it from the air stuffed it into her trunk, giving him a prickly glare as she did so.

"Right. Your gloves? Dragon hide, silk, wool, and moleskin."

Hadria nodded as he listed all four. Gellert was still wondering why he bothered checking if she had packed everything. Anything she missed could be delivered by owl, and she was in such a hurry to get on the train, it would be a blessing to let her leave early. Yet here he was, going through the exasperating chore of slowing her down and making sure she was truly ready to leave.

"Extra boots? The black leather ones I—"

"Yes, yes. And socks too. Long ones, short ones, woollen ones. Can we go _now_?" Hadria cut in, having terminated the Silencing Charm with a silent _Finite Incantatem_.

Scáth chose that moment to emerge from her partially-closed trunk like black smoke and shadow spewing forth from the gaps before forming a dog-like spectre with glowing yellow eyes.

Gellert took one look at the sharp-toothed grin and said, "If I didn't know better, I would've thought you had a demon-summoning circle drawn in one of your compartments."

"I heard you lot and took the liberty of checking the trunk. You seem to have everything you need in there and more," the Grim said to Hadria, ignoring the blonde wizard.

" _I knew it!_ I must have packed a bunch of—" Hadria started just as Gellert began saying, "Your definition of _need_ may be different from—"

There was a short pause as they stared at each other.

Scáth looked between them and their sullen glaring towards the other for a moment. Then he shook his head and chuckled.

"The two of you are going to miss each other. I just know it."


	9. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hadria meets the old gang and Draco makes a terrible decision.

**Chapter Nine: Familiarity**

* * *

_"Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illusi." All things change, and we change with them. —Traditional Latin Saying_

* * *

With a swirl of shadow-coloured cloak, and a feeling of being sucked through a pipe, they appeared in a corner of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Barely anyone spared a glance that busy platform for one blonde young man dressed in smart Wizarding robes of black and silver, and one black-cloaked raven-haired girl. Families were milling about, preparing to send their children off, either lecturing their kids or exchanging hugs and kisses.

Hadria soaked it all in—the people, the magic, the brilliant red and black Hogwarts Express gleaming in the light of the train station, smoking white clouds of steam and mystery, waiting for her once more to board it. The excitement that had been bubbling inside her the entire day, barely contained just for the Apparition trip, now erupted again. She whirled around with a delighted laugh, emerald-green eyes shining with joy, a wide sunny smile on her face, only to widen upon catching side of the undecipherable expression on her guardian's face.

"Gerwald," she sang, and he looked down at her, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Hadria didn't think he was even aware of it, judging by the blankness in his usually clear blue eyes. She knew that she would have felt worried before, a long time ago, in another timeline, if she ever saw such an expression on anyone's face, but now, under these circumstances, she could only feel very pleased.

"Gerwald," she repeated, a teasing lilt still evident in her voice. "Scáth is right. You're already starting to miss me, aren't you?"

"Nonsense!" Gellert scoffed as he smoothed his expression into one of absolute neutrality. "Now hurry along, we have fifteen minutes before the train leaves."

He swept off after that, back slightly stiff with indignation that only Hadria would notice, leaving the girl to gambol happily after him.

"I'll definitely write back you know?" she said as she tried to keep up with his long strides. "Lot's of letters. I'll write every week, until you have no idea where to keep them."

"What makes you think I'll keep them?" Gellert replied, still looking ahead.

"And I'll send back stuff too. You'll see," she continued, blithely ignoring whatever he just said. "And I'll send Scáth over sometimes, to check on you, and make sure you're not too lonely."

"There's no need for that. Please keep that dog to yourself. In fact, I would rather if I never got a visit from—"

"Hey! Maybe I'll even send you a dragon, if I see one!" Hadria interrupted, suddenly remembering what happened in her first year. "Won't that be awesome?"

"… A _dragon_? Why would you see a dragon at Hogwarts?" Gellert demanded. Despite the fact that the school motto did mention a dragon, he was pretty sure such a dangerous creature wouldn't be allowed on the school grounds when Hogwarts was professed to be the safest place in the Wizarding world, now that Dumbledore was Headmaster. But then again…

"Never mind. Don't answer that," he said when Hadria looked like she was about to concoct some wild theory about how Hogwarts could have attained a dragon and kept it. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten this was _Hadria_ they were talking about. If there was a dragon sighting in Hogwarts, _she'd_ probably be the cause of it.

Hadria giggled, as if she knew full well what was going on in Gellert's mind.

"Well then," she said, when they'd reached the edge of the platform, and looked around. Around them were other families saying goodbyes to their children, some giving their kids a last-minute-nagging. Hardly anyone spared a glance in their direction, any oddity that might have made them stand out (such as the rather big difference in the appearance of the 'father' and 'daughter') was overlooked here, where other stranger oddities were common. For example, there was a boy wearing Muggle clothes, holding a toad in his hands, looking rather plump compared to his tall, stick-like grandmother who seemed to be wearing rather strange clothes, even by Wizarding standards.

 _Neville,_ Hadria smiled fondly. It would be nice to befriend that boy again. He was the perfect Gryffindor—brave and honourable—despite initial impressions. Perhaps she'd find him on the train later. It wouldn't be difficult, as he'd probably be looking for his toad again.

"Please do not get into too much trouble. Better still, don't get into trouble at all," Gellert sighed when it seemed like they had no choice but to part.

"Who? Me?" Hadria gave him an innocent smile.

This was rebuked with a glare. "If trouble comes looking for you—as it always seem to— _run_ , you hear me? Run as fast as you can, and don't look back."

"Yes, Gerwald," she huffed, while hiding a smirk. It just wouldn't do to remind him of the… semantics, after all.

There was a lull for a while, as they stared at each other. Finally, Gerwald patted her head. She'd grown a lot since he first met her, having good food and the best care he could provide, though she was still on the petit side, and still retained her elfin looks with her wild raven locks only semi-tamed with a half ponytail.

"You'll do fine in Hogwarts," he said, and Hadria blinked, wondering if he was reassuring her or himself.

"Of course I will. It's the rest of Hogwarts you need to worry about," she replied with a toothy grin. Then, before he could lecture her anymore about her relationship with trouble, she ducked under his hand and launched herself at him.

Gellert caught her and automatically hugged her back. It was just a moment, before he fully registered what he was doing and what she had said. The moment he loosened his arms, she grabbed her trunk and the cage with Holly inside, and made a mad dash for the train and leapt aboard, forever grateful for the invention of Feather-light Charms.

"Hadria! What did you mean by—!"

"I'll see you soon, Gerwald!" Hadria yelled back cheekily before disappearing into the train, and other students began rushing to board the train that was about to leave.

_Ah, but the incredulous look on Gellert's face as she bid him goodbye was a good one._

And so a raven-haired girl found herself humming merrily to herself as she searched for a compartment to sit.

* * *

The first time she was aboard the Hogwarts Express, she'd been there early enough to find an empty compartment almost straight-away. Now, she'd got on a lot later and many of the compartments she had glanced in were occupied. She recognised some of the faces of the older Gryffindors, and a few from other Houses' Quidditch teams. When she spotted Ron sitting in a compartment by himself, she was extremely tempted to enter, and had stopped outside for a few seconds wondering if she should look for her other first-year not-yet-friends.

Then she sensed two presences beside her and she turned, somewhat miffed that she hadn't heard them coming. Two grinning faces looked back at her.

"Well, look what we have here," said one twin.

"I believe we have found an ickle firstie…"

"… And a secret admirer of our little brother."

Hadria stared back at them unfazed and unimpressed (or so she'd have them believe). "Many of the compartments are full, so I was wonder if I should ask to sit in this one. I'm having second thoughts."

The twins exchanged glances.

"How stiff," Fred commented.

"Poor Ronnikins," muttered George.

The differences were slight and negligible at first glance—the way their hair falls, the shape of their eyes, the broadness of the face. But Hadria had spent enough time around them—as well as enough time around just one of them (but she'd rather not think about that because her heart still felt a twinge whenever she did)—to tell the difference.

"Is it fun? Being twins?" Hadria asked, almost crossly, before Fred could add anything else. It might have came out a little sharper and sterner than she intended to. (Oh no, it actually came out exactly the way she had wanted it to).

The twins exchanged another glance, this time more wary than before.

"Oh looks like we've found a mini-McGonagall," Fred said finally, with a groan.

Hadria couldn't help it, and when she tried to hold back her laugh, she choked and ended up coughing and giggling at the same time.

She calmed down enough to notice their raised eyebrows, and repeated, "Mini-McGonagall?" And doubled over in another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," she said when she was done as she wiped tears from her eyes, and rubbed her aching cheeks. "If Professor McGonagall finds out... Actually let's not think about that, I think I might start laughing again."

"That was an act, wasn't it? Earlier?" George realised, waving his hands as if he could demonstrate his point.

"Judging by her reaction, she must be the furthest thing from a mini-McGonagall," Fred added. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

They grinned as one and stretched out a hand each. "Fred and George Weasley, pleased to meet you. We have a feeling we'll get along just fine."

Hadria shook both hands happily. "Hadria Potter, pleased to meet you too."

If they were surprised, they didn't really show it, unlike others who might have gaped or started searching for the lightning-bolt scar. They were definitely very delighted, however, as if they'd just won a prize.

"Do you like spiders, Hadria?" asked George.

Hadria didn't have to reply, as her eyes lit up and she visibly brightened. The twins grinned and nodded to themselves and Fred slid open the compartment door.

"Hey, Ron," he said with a knowing smirk. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

Ron predictably shuddered and mumbled something that sounded like, "Right."

Fred shut the door. "Come along, Hadria. The tarantula's _huge_."

"It's totally wicked," agreed George. "Pity Ron doesn't care for spiders."

And that was how Hadria found herself _not_ joining Ron (deciding that she could always befriend him later) and instead, following the Weasley twins to Lee's compartment where they showed her the spider. The twins had been right—the tarantula was big, as big her face and maybe even bigger. It was beautifully dark-coloured, fluffy and looked a lot less menacing than Aragog… Though that may be because she could carry it with two hands (with its legs spilling over) and it wasn't trying to eat her nor feed her to its relatives.

The only problem was when Holly tried to get out of her cage. She ended up frightening the spider (and Lee, who probably didn't want to lose his spider and was evidently very concerned for his pet) with her barking and furious flapping of wings. Hadria and the twins had a good laugh about it at Lee's expense before they decided it was best if she quickly took her leave after so as not to scare the poor spider to death.

* * *

Hadria found Neville next, who still had a young round face, sitting with bushy-haired Hermione, looking rather forlorn as Hermione talked to him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd lost his toad, again. So Hadria made a split-second decision (she was good at making those), and Summoned the toad, Trevor, with a wave of her wand.

Toad in hand, she slid open the compartment door.

"Is this your toad?" she asked, poking her head it and showed them the toad.

"Trevor!" Neville yelled, relief evident on his face as he stumbled in his haste to reach the door from his seat.

"Maybe you should keep him in a tank next time," Hadria suggested. "The Magical Menagerie should sell some specially made for pet toads."

"I—I'll think about it," Neville said gratefully. "Thank you."

"That was nice of you. We were just about to go look for it," Hermione said, and Hadria noticed that her front teeth had yet to be shrunk to a normal size. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and this is…"

"Neville Longbottom," said Neville, now clutching Trevor so tightly that Hadria got a bit worried the toad's bulging eyes might fall out.

It took two words—"Hadria Potter"—for Hermione to go on another one of her long speeches about 'Harriet Potter' and history books. In another time, Harriett Potter would have felt rather bewildered by it and perhaps even a little put-off. Now…

"I've read them too! But none of them are accurate, not at all. Why, there was even this book that said…"

"… And there was this other book that was just utter rubbish. I know that now of course, after seeing you in person. It is rather different from how they depicted it. I suppose they took some creative liberty with…"

"… Gerwald, my guardian, says that we have to be careful when we read. He taught me all about cross-referencing with other sources and…"

"… I also read your parents were Gryffindors? I've been asking around, and I think it's by far the best House, though I hear Ravenclaw is…"

"… And Hufflepuff seems scary, don't you? With their loyalty and determination, I'd imagine if you accidentally offended one of their friends…"

"… Well, I heard that You-Know-Who was in Slytherin. I must say the House description doesn't sound remotely pleasant. I mean, cunning and ambition makes them…"

By the end of it, Hadria was settled comfortably beside Hermione, and Neville was the one who looked rather stunned, until Hadria dragged him into the conversation. She thought it was a good thing she did, because he seemed to get bolder and gain confidence the more he spoke.

They were just getting to the topic of Wizarding games and Quidditch, after having concluded that if the four students from all four different Houses could somehow become friends, they would be a terrifying force to behold, when the compartment door slid open and three boys entered. The boy in the middle, pale and blonde, was flanked by two stockier dark-haired boys with scowls on their faces.

Hadria recognised them at once, and for a moment, she froze. She thought she had prepared for everything, and had in fact, prided herself in the idea of being the one throw others off-balance, but she had honestly forgotten that she would meet Draco before reaching Hogwarts.

It might have been because she hadn't met him in Diagon Alley this time around, and was under the impression that she'd know what to do with him after the Sorting, depending on how the conversation with the Hat goes.

In her past life, she had never been truly friends with the Malfoys. She'd ended up being on relatively good terms with Narcissa, but her relationship with Draco merely consisted of cool, distant, short but civil conversations whenever they bumped into each other. (There wasn't a need to even consider Lucius, because the poor guy had been thrown into Azkaban after the Battle of Hogwarts, before they moved him to St Mungo's due to some illness, after which he was discharged and stayed in the Malfoy Manor, and was never seen in public again).

"Has any of you seen Harriet Potter?" Draco asked. "I've heard that she's almost definitely in one of the compartments somewhere around this part of the train." And Hadria immediately knew how she was going to respond.

Neville and Hermione turned at once to glance at Hadria, who shrugged. "I'm not. Harriet Potter, that is."

Neville blinked several times. Hermione raised her eyebrows. The other three boys stared. And Hadria shrugged.

"It's true. My name hasn't been Harriet for six years now."

Hermione turned back to Draco and said, with a sigh, "She used to be Harriet Potter, but apparently her guardian changed it when she was five, so she's Hadria Potter now."

It was funny, Hadria noted, amused, how Draco looked a little stunned upon hearing Hermione's words. His expression froze a little, before he quickly covered it up with a frown.

"And who are you?"

"I'm Hermione Granger. But it's a bit rude, don't you think? Demanding for someone's name before giving yours?" she replied curtly.

The pale boy raised an eyebrow, lips curling into an almost-sneer. "Granger? I don't believe I've heard that last name before."

There was imminent disaster and Hadria could smell it coming. So she quickly interrupted with a bright smile that she knew tend to throw people off, "Well, there was a Dagworth-Granger some hundred years ago. Can't quite remember what he did—something related to Potions—but it's really quite likely that Hermione's descended from one of his squib relatives." Here, her smile turned into a vicious smirk. "So please don't call her a Mudblood. If you do, I will send Snag after you."

Draco blinked, looking like he was trying to process what she'd said, opened his mouth, and something about her expression must have warned him not to be careful with what he said because he quickly shut it again, and finally asked, "Uh… Snag?"

"My Jarvey," Hadria replied casually, as she shrugged off her cloak and an overgrown ferret was jolted out of one of the inner pockets. The Jarvey yawned and looked about blearily.

Hermione let out a startled gasp. "Are you sure that… animal is allowed?"

" _Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad,_ " Hadria recited. "They didn't say we _couldn't_ bring other animals. Besides, there's a third-year student with a tarantula, and I heard from some friends that their brother has a rat."

"Eight eyes?" Snag yelped, suddenly very much awake and winter-white. Hadria wasn't sure why, but the Jarvey was, for some reason, amusingly afraid of anything with more than two eyes. (She'd discovered this that one time they encountered a lizard with a third eye).

"Stick to Holly and you'll be fine," Hadria said dismissively, knowing full well that Snag would not be fine with Holly as the snowy owl seemed to be holding a grudge against the Jarvey for insulting her one too many time.

"I'm pretty sure more than one pet is not allowed," Hermione insisted. Hadria decided it wouldn't be wise to mention that she had a third pet with her, especially when the third pet was most definitely illegal. Instead, she turned to look at Draco (who was looking rather bemused), then faltered, when she realised Draco hadn't introduced himself yet. Of course, she knew who he was, but she wasn't supposed to.

"Um, you haven't introduced yourself?" she said, pointedly looking at Draco.

Draco looked startled (it seemed like the combined expression of shock and confusion was now his favourite face), "I'm Draco Malfoy. And these are Crabbe and Goyle."

"M-Malfoy?" Neville stammered and stared at Draco long and hard as horrified recognition dawned in his eyes. Hadria wondered if the poor boy has had an unfortunate encounter with Lucius Malfoy before.

"Got a problem with that?" Draco replied, silver eyes narrowing defensively. "I suppose you're the Longbottom boy? Father described you before."

" _I_ think Draco's a nice name," Hadria hastily interjected. "Can I call you Draco? Of course, you can call me Hadria, if we're gonna be on first-name basis."

"Thanks." Draco tilted his head slightly. "Are we friends?"

"We can be, I'd like to befriend you, if you don't mind me being friends with Hermione and Neville. But I can promise you that if you want to liven up your life, being friends with me will be a very good idea. Probably."

The Malfoy scion, naturally, didn't look very reassured. Hadria sighed.

"Look, I'm Hadria Potter, and I don't plan on being any ordinary student. I don't like the current educational and government system. It's stuffy and boring. We have magic. _Magic!_ There are so many possibilities to explore, and we're not doing it. We say this is not possible, or this is how things should be done, and then we just sit around believing it and there use to be so much research and new discoveries but now things are stagnating. Alchemy is no longer taught at Hogwarts because there isn't sufficient demand and why isn't there a Wizarding Studies class for Muggleborns? There are all sorts of rules and regulations that are just _wrong_. And I'm just not satisfied, you know. So I'm fully plan on shake things up, have fun, question _everything_ , and well, _change_ things, including correcting common prejudices and stereotypes. Which is why I'm also planning on starting a small club just for this purpose, and I think you guys are perfect, but well, only if you're interested."

There was a stunned silence after her speech, which she had fully expected, because she herself hadn't thought she'd end up saying this much. She hadn't even realized what she wanted to actually do in Hogwarts until she had begun speaking from a need to do something about the whole Malfoys are Dark prejudiced wizards, Longbottoms are pathetic Light blood-traitors and Muggleborns are ignorant close-minded Mudbloods situation.

"You want _us_ ," Neville finally said, faintly, almost disbelievingly.

"Yes, you. From what I have gathered in our short conversation, Neville has the potential to get things done if he wanted to. Neville, you just need more confidence in yourself. Hermione has the brains. She's smart, sensible and has a brilliant memory. Hermione, just remember that not all reading materials are correct or unbiased, and books aren't enough if you want to learn about Wizarding culture. But don't worry, I'm sure Neville and I can help you with that. And Draco… Draco comes from a traditional Pureblood family, right? And one that is… not quite so Light-inclined. Which can give us a different perspective. He'll know things most of us don't, like the politics his father is involved in, and well, I hope I'm not wrong in saying that he's most likely going to be a Slytherin and Slytherins are supposed to be cunning, ambitious and resourceful, which can be downright useful. Draco, I know you're apprehensive about doing something new, like associating yourself with those whom some may call blood-traitors, but it's things like these that I want to change and your help would be greatly appreciated. And it's an opportunity for you to make your own name, you know, instead of being only known as the son of Lucius Malfoy?"

There was, once again, a short pause before the silence was broken by Crabbe who had a hand raised and looked like he was trying very hard to form a sentence, the poor boy. Hadria never really did like the two of them, not because of their lack of intelligence or initiative, but because she recalled how much more mean, sadistic and convinced about blood purity than Draco had ever been.

And that was why she ended up smiling oh-so-sweetly at the boy.

"Tell me Crabbe, are you willing to look past Hermione's Muggleborn background? Because while I don't expect all of you to get along straightaway, I do expect you to be willing to _try_. Oh, and I might as well warn all of you first—I have every intention of involving the Weasley twins in this. You'll see why once you get to know them, so don't scowl, Draco. They're brilliant, really. And I don't think I'll have a problem recruiting them… though their younger brother may be a problem… But I think I've said enough. Your turn."

Crabbe gaped, and so did Goyle. Draco was rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, pale face scrunched up. Hermione looked thoughtful, while Neville seemed slightly star-struck.

"You know what?" Draco said at last as he took a seat beside Neville. "Crabbe, Goyle, return to our compartment without me. You're not needed here."

When his minions left, both still looking rather… displaced, Draco sighed. "Potter, Hadria, I did not know what to expect when I came looking for you, but it certainly wasn't this. Your proposition does sound interesting, but I do not know how well it'll be received by others."

"So… You're worried about public opinion and I'm guessing, your parents' opinions?" Hadria asked.

"It does sound something that would raise eyebrows but… I like it," said Hermione with a small smile that only grew wider the more she thought about it. It did seem like something Hermione would enjoy, what with S.P.E.W. and all, Hadria thought fondly.

"Mother will be fine with it, probably," Draco said pensively. "But Father on the other hand… Actually, if Mother approves of it, I don't think Father would be a problem."

Which showed just how the dynamics of the Malfoy family was like. So all that was left was…

"Neville?"

"Yes," said the quiet boy, with such conviction that Hadria could not help but grin with pride and elation.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

.

.

.

"Now, Draco, do you have a pet?"

"Well… We have a family owl, but no, I don't have a pet of my own, not yet."

"How would you like to keep a Jarvey? Just for a while."

"A Jarvey?"

"Yeah, since, as Hermione pointed out, I don't think I should be having a second pet. So I need someone to help me take care of Snag."

"I'm not sure…"

"He's rather rude, but then all Jarveys are, and it's quite fun after you get used to exchanging insults with an animal with the intelligence of an annoying six-year-old. Otherwise, he's pretty tame, and you just need to feed him your leftovers. And he cleans himself fine, no fleas or anything, so you don't need to worry about grooming."

"What's your owl's name?"

"I don't think Holly likes you very much."

Indeed, the snowy owl was glaring at Draco for some reason.

"But I'm really not sure if it is advisable for me to keep a Jarvey…"

"Its classification is XXX, the same as Kneazles and Crups, and according to Ministry guidelines, _competent_ wizards should have no trouble with such creatures." Hadria conveniently neglected to mention that Hippogriffs and Fire Crabs were also under the XXX classification.

"If I get into trouble, I'm blaming you—"

"Sure, it's my Jarvey after all."

"—And you have to get Sorted into Slytherin."

"Deal."

* * *

_It really was the start of a very beautiful friendship._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now an extra chapter you could read that is Danse-Macabre-canon that, chronologically, would fall between Chapter Seven and Chapter Eight. Since it was originally written as a side-fic, it is currently being posted in Märchen. It is not necessary to read it, because I will be including (in Danse Macabre itself) context and appropriate flashbacks to the events in this other chapter where necessary. So just fyi.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Cheers,  
> RA


	10. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the chapter title says it all.

**Chapter Ten: Hogwarts**

* * *

_"Aut viam inveniam aut faciam." I will either find a way, or make one._ — ( _Uncertain Origins)_

* * *

It turned out that befriending Draco Malfoy ruined all chances of becoming friends with Ron.

Of course, this wasn't entirely unexpected, but Hadria reckoned that if a timid Light wizard, the Girl-Who-Lived, a Muggleborn and the scion of a Death Eater could get along (and by 'get along, she meant 'without wands being drawn in the middle of a heated argument about bloodlines'), she thought she had a pretty good chance of convincing Draco and Ron to at least stay in the same compartment without, well… Ron failing to cast a spell, Draco outright laughing and mocking him, Ron abandoning his wand to punch Draco and Draco threatening to tell his father and get the Weasley family accused of assaulting a Malfoy heir with no prior provocation.

And of course, Hadria had to step in, because if Draco went through with his threat, it would have worked since even the insulting that had occurred before Ron drew his wand (and it should also be noted that Draco didn't draw his, because he couldn't—his wand had been stolen by Hadria the moment Ron stepped into the compartment) was started by Ron himself who first scoffed at Draco's name, and went right on to badmouthing him when Draco tried to ignore him (courtesy of Hadria and Neville elbowing his sides at the same time). It wasn't how Hadria wanted to start her new school year, so she reluctantly said goodbye to her friendship with Ron and discretely conjured a spider which appeared in all its eight-legged glory on Ron's shoes. The Weasley promptly high-tailed out of there while trying to kick the spider off.

But aside from the Ron-Weasley-Incident, the rest of the train ride was relatively uneventful. All in all, by the time they'd all changed into their uniform and got off the train, Hadria had become a Dark Witch in the eyes of one Ron Weasley (who was convinced that the spider had been her fault—which was true, but of course she denied it), while Hermione had decided that, one, said Weasley was the biggest prat she'd seen and two, that her new goal would be to somehow convince Draco Malfoy to let her read some books from the Malfoy library. And Draco and Neville were both wondering just what they'd gotten themselves into.

"I read that there's a giant squid in this lake," said Hermione, careful not to sit too close to the sides of the boat that the four of them were sharing. Hadria, on the other hand, was the exact opposite—leaning so far over the side that the boys had to keep a hold of her robes to make sure she wouldn't fall out.

"I wonder where it came from," Hadria commented, peering into the dark waters of the Great Lake. All she could see was the reflection of hazy purple-grey clouds, a round silvery moon and the warm sparkling lights of the castle they were approaching.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"Giant Squids do exist in the Muggle world as a non-magical creature, much like owls," Hermione was ever so quick to explain.

"They do?" Draco interrupted.

"Yes, but squids aren't freshwater creatures. There shouldn't be one in a lake like this. Which means this one has got to be a magical variant."

"Maybe Hagrid bred it," Hadria suggested, thinking of the dear half-giant she hadn't gotten to know very well this time around. It was a pity, but as fond as she was of him, she didn't think she'd ever trade shopping with Gellert for the nostalgia, which probably said something.

Hermione glanced at said half-giant in another boat. "I doubt it. I don't know how old he is, but according to _Hogwarts: a History_ , the squid's been around since the founding of Hogwa— _Hadria, what are you doing?_ "

"Uh…" Hadria froze in the act of rolling up the sleeves of her uniform as three pairs of eyes turned to her, her outer robe already shrugged off and hanging limp from her friends' hands. "I… I was just going to uh… test the waters?"

This was followed by some shrieking and dangerous rocking of the boat as they tried to force her to put her outer robe back on and _not_ put any part of her body into the water.

"That Jarvey… Where is it?" Draco demanded when they'd finally settled down once more.

Hadria blinked. "Snag? I left him with Holly and our trunks. Why?"

"Because the deal was for me to cover for you if you join me in Slytherin," Draco groaned. "At this rate, you're heading for Gryffindor."

Hadria pouted and declared, "Ye of little faith!"

This earned her a perfectly raised blonde eyebrow and weird looks from the other two.

"Oh look! It's Hogwarts!" Hermione suddenly yelled, pointing to the dark glittering castle that had gotten nearer and a lot bigger since they last looked at it, preventing Hadria from doing or saying anything else questionable.

The castle was so old and beautiful, that it commanded the attention of everyone, including Hadria, and the nearer they got to it, the more Hadria could feel the warmth of the castle magic welcoming her home. Even Draco was staring star-struck at the castle, though he quickly composed his expression afterwards.

* * *

They got off the boats at some underground harbour, and Hagrid led them above ground with a lamp in his hand. There was a flight of stone stairs, which they trotted up, and a pair of huge looming oaken double-doors greeted them.

Hagrid knocked on those doors a couple of times, loud and heavy knocks that only a half-giant could manage, and the doors opened to reveal a tall stern-faced witch, dressed in emerald-green robes and dark hair tied up into a bun. Hadria noted the rectangular spectacles that would leave a marking on the tabby cat she knew the Professor could turn into. Which reminded her of something she couldn't believe she'd forgotten—Animagi. So she promptly made it a goal to learn how to become an Animagus again as soon as possible.

Professor McGonagall led the first years through the torch-lit entrance hall and brought them to an empty room where they were briefed on what was to happen for the Sorting, conveniently excluding the actual Sorting process.

Hadria was half-convinced that she might end up admiring every Professor she met while reminiscing good old times. For example, she knew the current Gryffindor Head-of-House was, for the most part, a just and fair Professor who showed little favouritism, but cared enough for her Lions, and would make an excellent Headmistress in the future. She still remembered how angry she'd been when that Death Eater had the nerve to spit at the Professor. She'd cursed him good, and would happily do so again should history ever repeat itself.

"Father said they'd Sort us with a talking Hat," Draco said in a low voice, when Professor McGonagall had left. This was quite likely in response to Ron's comment to Seamus about the Sorting process.

"Well I can't imagine the Twins being very reliable sources of information, especially if you're their younger brother," Hadria chuckled quietly.

"Weasleys," Draco scoffed, and Hermione whispered loudly, "They don't sound very nice!"

"Really?" The Malfoy scion grinned. "I'm starting to like them already." Which was amusing statement all on its own.

Hermione gave him a patronising look. "They may be brothers but they seem to act more like bullies."

"Granger, I don't think it counts as bullying if the victim is that Weasel," Draco said, rolling his eyes and gestured vaguely in the direction of Ron.

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. Hadria exchanged a look with Neville, who merely shrugged, eyes still wide from watching what seemed like a rolling snowball turning into an avalanche.

But Hadria didn't need to do anything to diffuse the situation.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves?" said someone. That someone was one of many beings that looked like they were made of moonlight and pale mist. The ghosts of Hogwarts had made their entrance, and were discussing about the resident Poltergeist. At least, until Nearly Headless Nick noticed the first-years staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the translucent spectres.

"What's this?"

"New students!" The Fat Friar exclaimed. "It must be time for a Sorting again."

Some braver students nodded. It seemed like no one, not even the Purebloods, had seen a ghost before, and Hadria recalled that she'd never seen a ghost outside Hogwarts before, even though the reception at Nick's Deathday Party implied that there existed ghosts elsewhere.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff. It was my old House," said the Friar as Professor McGonagall re-entered the room. The ghosts then floated through a wall and out of the room, while the Professor ushered the students out, though many of them were still glancing backwards at where the ghosts had disappeared.

"Are there animal ghosts?" Hadria could not help but wonder aloud. As she had expected, Hermione was quick with an answer.

"Of course there are! Ghost horses are common enough, usually seen carrying ghost riders, and according to Hogwarts: A History, there's a ghost of a highwayman that lives here and he's always seen riding his ghost horse," she said. "In addition, there is a book by Mopsy Fleabert about animal ghosts in Britain."

Hadria's eyes lit up. "Do you have the book? The one about animal ghosts?"

"Well, yes. I could lend it to you, but why do you look so eager?" Hermione said uncertainly. The expression on Hadria's face made her slightly nervous, though she couldn't understand why.

"Nothing," replied Hadria, too-innocently. Hermione pursed her lips, but did not press as they were led into the Great Hall.

As the students were lined up at the front of the Hall, Hadria took the opportunity to admire the cavernous room in all its glimmering splendour. Everything seemed alight, from the floating candles, to the glinting golden plates and goblets, the sparkling eyes of many students, the shimmer of moonlight-mist that the ghosts had, and the glittering star-spangled ceiling.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in—"

"Hogwarts: A History, yes we know, Granger," Draco interrupted with a sigh. Hermione huffed and opened her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue when this time, they were silenced by a very loud and sudden singing.

"It's like Hogwarts is trying to help us prevent a quarrel," Hadria whispered to Neville, who smiled nervously.

"Do you really think I'll be okay in Hufflepuff?"

"You won't be okay, Neville," the raven-haired girl chuckled. "You'll be smashing! But I don't think you should force yourself into any house. Just let the Hat do its job and everything will fall into place."

The Sorting Hat's song ended just then, which made for a very timely applause to the end of Hadria's announcement. Of course, the applause was for the Hat, but Hadria clapped Neville on the back and joked, "See? The entire school agrees with me."

Neville chuckled, his trepidation alleviating slightly.

And the Sorting began.

* * *

Hermione was the first to get Sorted, because it was according to their last names, in alphabetical order.

She took a while on the stool, before the Hat announced, "RAVENCLAW!" And her plain black robes were magically adorned with sapphire blue and pale bronze as she held her head high with a bright smile (that did not show any teeth), and swept to the cheering Ravenclaw table, bushy hair trailing behind her like a hazel cloud.

Neville was second in their group, and he only took slightly less time than Hermione, but in the end, the Hat belted out a "HUFFLEPUFF!" His tie was now striped coal-black and sunflower-yellow, and the lining of his robes also changed from a plain dark grey to a warm golden colour.

Hadria watched proudly as the boy joined the Badgers who welcomed him warmly to their House. It was a good House, with Cedric as a fine example, and Tonks was another, and she'd told Hermione the truth when she said she found their House traits something to be wary about if one was on the wrong end of it.

"Malfoy, Draco," was next, but there wasn't much to say about it, as the blonde boy wasn't given the chance to even wear the Hat properly before it yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!"

The Malfoy scion looked very smug as he left to join the Slytherin table, but when he sat down, he caught Hadria's eye and gave her a Look, which she returned with a cheeky grin.

There were six people between Malfoy and Potter, and it was finally Hadria's turn.

Almost predictably, the Hall quickly burst into hushed whispers and mutterings, though some students weren't quite as quiet as they'd intended to be.

" _The_ Harriet Potter?"

"But she said… Potter, _Hadria_ …" People were craning their necks in their seats now.

"Perhaps she's Harriet Potter's twin?" Hadria felt like giggling at that one.

Then the Hat fell over her head and all was quiet. At least, it was, until she heard the Hat's very exasperated voice in her mind.

" _It seems like I had a hard time Sorting you before_ ," it observed. " _But you just had to make it even more difficult by repeating history._ "

 _Not really. There are a lot of things that are different this time around,_ Hadria replied.

" _Ah, Miss Granger's and Mister Longbottom's Sorting,"_ the Hat noted, plucking the thoughts from her mind. " _And of course, your background… Still, this makes things difficult. Very difficult, indeed. You've got plenty of courage, and quite a fair amount of wit and intelligence. And a… 'Saving people thing', was it?_ "

 _Eh?_ Hadria had almost forgotten about that. Between having a brief visit to the Afterlife and being the Master of Death, she'd grown less concern about people dying. But now that she thought about it, between the fun and chaos she intended to have, she did have a number of people she didn't want to die too soon. Sirius was one. Remus and Tonks were others. Not to mention _Fred_. George had never been the same without him.

Then…

Sirius! He was still in Azkaban, and Hadria had almost forgotten. Which meant that she'd need to make plans to clear his name. Which also meant that she would need Peter Pettigrew aka Wormtail aka Scabbers, Ron Weasley's—the boy who probably now hated her as much as he hated Draco—rat. This would require her stealing the rat from him, but she couldn't just Accio the rat out, because she wasn't sure if the Summoning Charm would work on Animagi, and it was going to be suspicious if a rat came flying out from the Gryffindor Tower anyway. But she didn't have any Gryffindor friends, except the Weasley twins, who could probably sneak her in if she claimed it was for a prank, or she could... When did the twins get that Map from Filch anyway?

And of course, there was Gellert to deal with, because she had no idea how to introduce her guardian and her godfather to each other... It could turn out utterly terrible, or utterly hilarious.

" _I once wanted to put you in Slytherin, did I not?_ " The Sorting Hat said, interrupting her musings. " _Well, I've changed my mind._ "

Hadria froze. _Wait… What?_

The Hat ignored her, and went on conversationally, " _So, how has living with former Dark Lord Grindelwald been?_ "

_No, wait! What do you mean you 'changed your mind'?_

" _Answer my question and I'll answer yours,_ " the Hat laughed. Hadria raised an eyebrow at the sheer Slytherin-ness of that statement.

 _Well, it's been really fun. Gellert has been wonderful,_ she admitted.

The Sorting Hat snorted. " _And there you have it. You could be great, in Slytherin, like before, and I do not deny that. But this time, I fear what might happen if I were to Sort you there. It appears that your other traits, such as your guts, your desire for prejudice to end, your unconventional thinking, amongst others, outweigh your shrewdness, ambition and… disregard for rules when it suits you."_

_Look, Mister Hat, I've got this Jarvey, and I can't leave him at home, so I've got to find a way to keep him here with me, and the only way is to—_

" _Miss Potter, we both know that good ol' Albus will let you keep a second pet if you wanted to._ "

 _…_ _Fine, but, I really really want to see Draco keep a Jarvey._

The Hat shook as it appeared to be chortling silently. Then it said, laughter still evident in its mind-voice, " _Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that."_

Aloud, it roared, "SLYTHERIN!"

And Hadria lifted the Hat off her head and was greeted by thunderous silence. Then… There was a loud sigh from the Slytherin table, while two pairs of hands began clapping at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. This was followed by loud synchronised cry of outrage from the Gryffindor table.

" _They got Potter?_ Why didn't _we_ get Potter?!"

And while the twins were dramatically waving their fists and falling over themselves in fake hysterical crying, the Slytherin table finally erupted into stunned applause.

Hadria looked down at her robes—raven black, emerald green and light silver, so different from the royal red and gold she was used to, and smiled. The colours suited her, and she could hardly wait to pen a letter to Gellert.

The Slytherin table welcomed her politely as she joined them. Only Draco looked less than apprehensive at her arrival.

"A deal's a deal," he said, twitching slightly at the thought of taking care of the Jarvey. "But you know, I think it just might be worth it."

Hadria looked in the direction he gestured towards, which was basically everyone else. Most of the Slytherins looked torn between curiosity and wariness, while the Ravenclaws seemed delighted at having a new mystery to puzzle over, and the Hufflepuffs were exchanging uncertain glances. The Gryffindors were the most vocal, even if one were to ignore the ever- theatrical Weasley twins, with exclamations of disbelief, shock and betrayal.

Only when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat did everyone sit up and settle down. Hadria thought it was very impressive, though she noted with equal parts glee and regret, that her former Head of House seemed upset at Hadria's Sorting. It wasn't very obvious, but she could tell from the tightness around her eyes and the thin line her lips formed.

And when she turned to look at the other teachers at the High Table, she could see Snape looking like he was trying his very best to ignore her existence by furiously scowling at the goblet in his hand. Grinning to herself, she glanced at Quirrell, who was seated beside him, but he merely had his usual perpetually nervous expression on his face (he wore a turban, which Hadria took as a good sign to mean that if she messed with him, she could mess with Voldemort too). Meanwhile, Dumbledore, seated right in the middle, looked unnaturally pale… In fact, he was so pale that Hadria would wager that if he found out who her guardian was now, he might just become a ghost.

But the Sorting was soon over, with Blaise Zabini joining them in Slytherin, and Dumbledore composed himself enough to greet the school.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, I'd like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Hadria shook her head slightly, grinning as it occurred to her that this was the sort of thing she might say if she were the Headmistress of the school.

"Father was right," Draco from said his seat across her, sounding a little dazed. "Dumbledore doesn't sound right in the head."

"Oh, he may sound mad, but you'd want to watch out for him, Malfoy. He doesn't care much for Slytherins," an older student commented. Here, he looked over at Hadria. "And I'm sure we're all wondering, how the Girl-Who-Lived ended up in Slytherin?" All theories of Hadria being Harriet's twin had vanished after Professor McGonagall had called Dean Thomas's name after Hadria.

"Well, I told the Hat there was a deal I wanted to see through, and the Hat said that Slytherin would help me to greatness, and that was that," Hadria said casually, watching as the other Slytherins tried not to stare too wide-eyed at her answer.

"Four-and-a-half minutes and that was what it was all about?" One of them didn't sound convinced. "You were nearly a Hatstall."

"Oh, no," Hadria laughed. "That was how we ended the debate of which of the four Houses to put me in."

"Four?" Draco repeated incredulously. "I got Slytherin even before I felt the Hat on my head."

"I suppose the Chosen One would have the traits of all four Houses of Hogwarts," Blaise Zabini mused. He was seated on the right of Goyle (the two goons flanked Draco, as usual) while an older student sat on Crabbe's left. A quiet Theodore Nott sat one seat away from Hadria, with another older student in between them. The other girls—Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode—sat together, a few seats away, and Hadria wondered at what point would Parkinson leave them to latch onto Draco.

"Or perhaps the Hat was feeling extra talkative," Hadria suggested, and was given odd looks.

"That would imply the Hat is sentient, Hadria."

"The Hat sang, Draco. And it asked me how was I."

"That just gives it a little more intelligence than your average talking mirror."

"I'd like to see your talking mirror last ten centuries."

"You can't possibly be saying the Hat is alive."

"Maybe not alive like you and me, but I wouldn't be surprised, with the Founders' magic and intelligence imbued into it, reinforced with the castle's magic over the years, that it'd be sentient."

"The food is here," Zabini pointed out, interrupting the squabble. Hadria's attention was automatically diverted to the feast that had magically appeared in front of them, courtesy of the House Elves.

There was roast meat and chops—beef, pork, chicken and lamb—and sausages, bacon and steak, potatoes and vegetables cooked in various ways—boiled, roast, fried and steamed with gravy—and even Yorkshire pudding. The feast looked heavenly, even though it wasn't too long ago when Hadria had an equally rich meal with Gellert back in their Cornwall home, not to mention the assorted exotic food she'd had in Mongolia, China, Japan, Southeast Asia, Australia,and the Americas, not to mention the Middle East, Greece and various other countries in Europe.

But still, it was wonderful to be having a Welcoming Feast in Hogwarts again, even though the people surrounding her were different.

Hadria readily helped herself to the steak, roast potatoes and pudding…

"But, is the Hat really alive?" While Draco didn't seem quite as ready to drop the subject in favour of food.

"Miss Potter is quite right, and you'll find it in your history books," a deep voice said before an older student could say anything.

Floating behind Draco was the Bloody Baron, though Hadria supposed it wasn't quite as gory as it might have been if the blood he was covered in weren't a ghostly silver.

"The Hat does sing a different song each year," commented a prefect with a half-shrug.

"It must be terribly boring, having to wait a year before it gets to do anything again. I might compose a song too, if I were the Hat," Hadria piped up after she'd swallowed a particularly juicy cut of steak with mushroom sauce.

"I'm sure you would," Draco said drily, as he finally began scooping food onto his plate. It seemed like after spending several hours with the raven-haired girl gave him a good idea of what to expect of her.

The good thing was, after seeing the Malfoy scion so familiar with the Girl-Who-Lived, the other Slytherins quickly warmed up (or as warm as Slytherins could get) enough to ask more questions of her—like where she'd been staying, because Dumbledore had assured the Wizarding world that she was living in a safe place, but had never specified where or with whom.

"I was adopted by Gerwald when I was five. We live together in Cornwall," Hadria happily told them, figuring that it was fine to let them know the county, since the Hogwarts letter had mentioned it anyway.

"Who's Gerwald? Was he our kind?" Someone (Pucey aka Non-Cheating-Slytherin No. 1) asked, and was automatically answered by someone else (Bletchley) who said, "Of course. He has to be. Why would Dumbledore send the Chosen One to live with _Muggles_?"

"He's Dumbledore," was the derisive reply of another (but aside from Quidditch players, Hadria couldn't really identify the older Slytherin students).

Hadria looked from one curious face to another, then an idea sparked. From there, she spun them a dramatic story of living with Muggles for the first five years of her life.

She told them about her nice but distant neighbours, and the batty lady with many cats, and her poor cousin who was growing up unhealthy because of her horrid uncle, and her no-nonsense aunt. Then she told them about the epic tale of how Gerwald Grinsen—who was probably half-blood because his last name wasn't a recognised one—had rescued her one night, whisking her away from her ordinary Muggle life, and introduced her to the Wizarding world.

"Basically, your guardian kidnapped you," one student observed. (Higgs, was it? The Slytherin Seeker before Draco, aka Non-Cheating-Slytherin No. 2). To which Hadria replied, "It's not kidnapping if I went with him willingly. And it was legal. My aunt signed the paperwork."

She neglected to tell them the specifics of how she ended up meeting him and got taken away. Instead, she embellished upon his knight-in-shining-armour entrance, and told of how he'd realised a girl like her shouldn't spend her whole life with boring Muggles, so he'd adopted her from her relatives, with Petunia playing an exaggerated part of concerned and reluctant aunt in the story, while omitting Dumbledore's less-than-savoury role.

After all, Hadria didn't want to build upon the prejudice against Muggles that was already widespread amongst the purist Slytherins.

"So, what kind of person is this Gerwald?" This was another popular question, it seemed, after she was finished with her narration. It was obvious that her story had been dramatize and exaggerated like all good tales were, but no one called her out on it. Except for the occasional scoffs at some parts, like her portrayal of Muggles as boring but average human beings.

Hadria would have been slightly miffed anyhow, if she didn't know that information was power, particularly to both Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and most of the Slytherins probably already knew quite a bit about one another, while she was a bit of a wild card, and now, they were all thrown off-balance. She took great pride in that, and took some time to hum and ponder on how she was going to portray Gellert other than a Wizarding rescuer.

In the end, she merely gave them a vicious grin, razor sharp and full of teeth, killing-curse-eyes glinting madly. (She had learned it from Scáth, Master of Looks-So-Terrifying-That-Even-A-Basilisk-Would-Keel-Over).

"Let's just say that if you're the type that twitches at You-Know-Who's name, then you're gonna completely lose your wits if you ever see Gerwald remotely vexed, even if you have no idea who he is, even if he's not vexed at you."

Hadria could be very convincing when she wanted to be, and some of their fellow year mates visibly swallowed. Zabini pretended to shudder good-naturedly, while Draco paled (which was quite a feat considering how fair his skin was already). Most of the older years didn't seem to believe her, however, but they did eye her too-wide grin warily.

"If he's that fearsome, why haven't we heard of him?" Someone demanded. This was someone she recognised—Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

She didn't like him much.

So she smiled guilelessly and said, "Well, Gerwald says that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar." As if she weren't questioning his intelligence as a Slytherin. Because which snake would not choose to hide in the grass if it could? Even lionesses—because lions were stay-at-home dads in the animal kingdom—prefer to stalk their prey, sneaking up on them in the cover of night before delivering a quick and powerful attack.

Judging from the expression on some faces, including Flint's, the Slytherins had caught the implication anyway. Which was good. They should think more, and embarrass their House less. Because she was sure Crabbe and Goyle were already going to do that brilliantly.

Then the desserts arrived, and the questions were put on hold. Or at least, some of them were.

"You're fitting in unexpectedly well," Higgs commented.

Hadria was eating a huge slice of ice-cream-topped treacle tart with as much grace and dignity as possible. Gellert had taught her all the right ways to eat food—which had been very tedious (unnecessarily so, in Hadria's opinion)—though the only reason why she was applying what she'd learnt now was because while she desperately wanted to wolf down her the scrumptious fusion of breadcrumb pastry, light treacle syrup, lemon zest and cream, Crabbe and Goyle were eating so horrifyingly that she had to distinguish herself from them.

She still wasn't eating her tart the way Draco was delicately having his slice of cheesecake though. It was delicious, and she wasn't going to waste so much time just cutting the treat and lifting it to her mouth. So she did everything with a precise and skillful efficiency that was more to her style. The tart disappeared within the minute—half the time it was taking Draco to finish his cheesecake.

"The Hat did Sort me into Slytherin," she said, even as she went on to help herself to a few éclairs and more servings of cream and treacle tart almost automatically. Then she poured vanilla and chocolate sauce over everything.

"You're a Potter," Higgs protested. He was no longer looking at her though. And he wasn't the only one staring at her food.

"I'm also related to the Blacks," Hadria pointed out. She found raspberry sauce and drizzled that too.

"You are?" That was Draco, surprised. Then he stared off into space, looking rather horrified. "Dear Merlin, I'm _related_ to her!"

Hadria blinked, and pretended to be affronted. "I thought you would be honoured!"

"Honoured?" Draco echoed.

"I'm the Girl-Who-Lived," Hadria shrugged, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.

"Your narcissism is unbecoming," the blonde boy scowled, and briefly—just briefly—Hadria thought it was a wonderful impression of Snape.

"Hey, _I'm_ honoured to be your relative. The least you could do is—"

She hadn't even finished when she saw him visibly straightened, pointed chin held higher than usual.

"Oh, you are?" He said. "That's to be expected, I suppose. After all—"

Hadria giggled and said triumphantly, "Draco, _your narcissism is unbecoming_."

"The Hat did sort her into Slytherin," Pucey muttered over Hadria's head to Higgs, who had taken to staring at the girl like she was an alien specimen.

* * *

It felt almost surreal, walking down to the Slytherin dorms, with a Slytherin prefect leading the way, surrounded by Slytherins who were actually capable of bantering with her without wands being drawn. Most of the Slytherins were content to ignore her, the misplaced Potter-Who-Lived, but this very fact, that caused some to regard her with wariness and distrust, caused others to draw near to her and engage her in conversation.

They were like Ravenclaws, Hadria realised, and she was a particularly strange book. The questions never ended, because after she answered one, another would arise from it. And they didn't seem to be satisfied with the big picture, but had to know every detail, from Gerwald's typical attire to her favourite food.

"What does it matter what colour I like for ribbons?" Hadria asked when they were led into the common room, and the older years finally left to unpack in their separate dorms. If she hadn't seen the Slytherin Common Room before, she'd probably have been admiring it, but as it was, she was more bemused by all the questions that she didn't really mind asking, because none of them were particularly personal. But it still was a little odd to Hadria.

She supposed she should have expected the Slytherins to interrogate her… Though, Hadria noted with some satisfaction, they were all very careful not to broach sensitive topics like what were her views on Muggles, or whether she remembered the night her parents died.

"So that if the event arise that we should need to return a favour, or send you a gift, we'd know what to look out for," Draco replied as he examined the insides of a dark wooden cupboard. There were several dusty books, a few candles, and a skull. Nott and Zabini were at different corners of the room looking at the tapestries under the greenish light of several orb-shaped lamps. Meanwhile, Parkinson and the other girls were testing out the leather of the sofa chairs, which were back with black wood and tastefully decorated with subtle dark green serpents.

It did not escape Hadria's notice that she wasn't with the girls, when even Millicent Bulstrode was included. Perhaps she would, another time, because she was sure that even though she remembered Pansy Parkinson to be a generally unpleasant character, she would certainly be a good source of gossip.

Instead, she stroked a serpent carved into the mantelpiece over the fireplace, and gave Draco a look out of the corner of her eyes, which were now greener than ever, here in the Slytherin Dungeons, where everything was illuminated with by glimmering moonlight filtered through algae-infested lake-water.

Then, just as he—and everyone else who were still there—thought she was going to declare something serious and profound, she said, "Should I pin up a notice that says everyone should just give me anything chocolate if they need to give me anything?"

Draco just sighed. "I'm going to bed," he muttered to no one in particular.

And left Hadria blinking at his escaping back.

"Do you collect Chocolate Frog Cards?" Nott asked when the shadows of the corridor leading to their dormitories swallowed Draco.

Hadria whirled around, bright emerald eyes glinting almost eerily.

"Yes," she breathed, and Nott gave her an amused look.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Then Hadria heard a very Draco-like yelp, remembered Snag, and laughed.

"Goodnight everyone, there's something I may have forgotten to attend to," she said and left to find the boy's dormitories.

Behind her, as she was leaving, she heard a certain girl sneer, "Who does that half-blood think she is, leeching to us like that? Poor Draco deserves so much better."

"That's a girl the Dark Lord could not kill, Parkinson," Zabini pointed out drily.

Hadria giggled to herself—who knew Slytherins could be so amusing?—and hurried along the green-lit corridor. She had a Malfoy to rescue from a disorientated (read: half-mad from House-Elf-popping) Jarvey.

* * *

That night, Hadria dreamt of throwing snowballs at the back of Quirrell's turban with two redheads, while a bushy-haired girl chased her with a history book, and two other boys, one of them a paler blonde than the other, competed to see who had more etiquette lessons drilled into them by their guardians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ABOUT CHARACTERS:
> 
> Now, in case some of you are wondering about Ron, I'd originally planned for them to be friends, but as I wrote, I realised that wasn't quite possible anymore. Not only do we have Draco in the picture, and Hadria going to Slytherin, there's also Gellert to consider, and when I imagine Gellert's reveal as a 'relation' of Grindelwald... I don't think Ron will take it very well. He wasn't very understanding in canon, and here, well, we'll see, but don't expect too much. I'll try not to bash him, because I don't particularly mind him, and he does have his good traits, but I think his flaws are going to show up more in this fic because of the way things are progressing. Sorry about that, to those who like him and wanted him to be friends with Hadria.
> 
> (I also hope that I didn't make the Slytherins too OOC, but we didn't have much chance in canon to explore their interactions with one another—yes, some of them were nasty folk, but I'm pretty sure there were quite a few decent ones as well—so I hope that gives me a little leeway, and well, Hadria is Hadria).


	11. It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, about Hadria's first week at Hogwarts. And some letters home.

**Chapter Eleven: It Begins**

* * *

_"_ _Castigate ridendo mores." Laughing corrects morals._ — _Jean de Santeul_

* * *

When Hadria awoke, it was to a strange sense of vertigo. The ceiling was green, and upon flipping over, she discovered that the silver-and-ebony-framed window was fitted with green glass, and so were its curtains. Even the sunlight filtering through the water and glass appeared green. It was almost as if she'd ended up in the Emerald City of Oz.

Of course, they weren't all the same shade of green—the ceiling was a dark pine green, the curtains were a deep forest green, the glass was a seafoam colour, and the sunlight was almost turquoise. But it was still a lot of green.

And the floor was carpeted with a moss-coloured material so soft and springy, it could pass off as actual moss.

Hadria was, to be honest, a bit thrown off by the sheer amount of green. It was the opposite of the Gryffindor dormitories she was used to, where nearly everything was red.

(Did she forget to mention that the hangings, sheets and blankets were also green?)

That wasn't to say that she didn't like it. The sounds of the lake were a soothing lullaby at night, and sometimes, she thought she could see a giant tentacle slither by. And her roommates hadn't been too bad either.

It had only been a few nights, but Pansy had taken to ignoring her existence, while Daphne was naturally quiet, and Davis and Bulstrode were more comfortable with each other than anyone else. It didn't bode well for future friendships, but Hadria reckoned she would get through with one of them sooner or later. Worse come to worse, if she needed a girlfriend to talk girl to, she'd have Hermione.

On her first day of school, she'd been awake early, because she liked to wake up before Gellert, and that meant anytime before eight, and the rest of the Slytherin girls were still asleep…

The question at the time, had been: To do or not to do?

And she pondered this as she took a quick shower in the girls' bathroom.

On one hand, she could mark her first day (and subsequent days too) with a bit of chaos. It meant not giving the school a break. It meant making sure they all knew that Hadria Potter was here and school life would be changing as they knew for as long as she walked the halls of Hogwarts. On the other hand, she could lay low, be a model student, not cause any trouble, until they have been lulled into a false sense of security before she pranked them good.

In the end, she decided to wait.

Waiting was good, and it was the Slytherin way of doing things. It would give her time to plan, and maybe get the help of others.

So Hadria left the Slytherin Dungeons just as everyone else had begun to wake up, and proceeded to the Great Hall for breakfast, all without a fuss.

Or at least, there wasn't a fuss on her part, because she'd only just started on some French toast (crisp and warm and layered with vanilla sauce and honey), when someone let loose a few centipedes at the Slytherin table.

Centipedes, the size of… well, snakes.

They appeared in a blink of an eye, crawling on the table as if they had always been there. One of them crept in and out of a bowl of baked beans and Hadria heard an older Slytherin say, "I'm not eating that."

But it was rather anticlimactic, because no one was screaming or anything—not only were they witches and wizards, they were Slytherins—and Hadria herself was just content with watching the centipedes gross out her fellow early-rising Slytherins, who were trying to Vanish the centipedes.

Unfortunately for them, the centipedes they tried to Vanish would fall apart into black centipede sections that continued to wriggle and scuttle about on the table. Other Slytherins tried Stunning the centipedes, which caused them to explode in black smoke, leaving horrible scorch marks on the table.

When the later Slytherins finally joined them at the table, they found Hadria (and a few other Slytherins who had followed her example) levitating a few breakfast dishes, to prevent the huge centipedes from touching them.

"What in Merlin's beard is going on?" Draco demanded.

Hadria calmly helped him fill his plate with a croissant filled with almond cream and topped with chocolate sauce, some scrambled eggs, and a few sausages. This was followed by an nice and shiny red apple.

"Eat your breakfast," she said, ignoring his question—he could figure it out himself by watching the others. "We have fifteen minutes before we have to leave for class."

Draco stared at her. "Fifteen?" He whirled around to glare at his minions, who each gave him a half-shrug as they stuffed their mouths with muffins.

"It's half-past-nine. Herbology starts quarter-to-ten," Hadria replied. Their time-tables had been delivered to their dormitories during the night, presumably by their Head of House. Hadria wasn't sure if this was a common occurrence, as Professor McGonagall seemed to prefer handing them out personally, or if Snape was just avoiding her.

Halfway through the croissant, Draco paused, swallowed, and asked with a slight frown, "You eat croissants with chocolate _and_ almond cream?"

"Yes," Hadria grinned. "It's a nice combination and I figured you might like it."

This was when the Malfoy scion actually gave his plate a second look-over and Hadria wondered if she should point out that it had been rather careless of him to just start eating whatever was served to him, without actually making sure the food was edible.

(She decided she wouldn't, not until she actually pranked him by serving him something strange. Like Canary Cream, when the Weasley twins finally get around inventing them. As Mad-Eye Moody liked to say, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!")

"You're missing toast with ham and cheese and baked beans," Draco informed her, when he had finished examining each item on his plate and eating them. But she could tell from his tone of voice that he was wondering how she had piece together a breakfast he liked for him.

Instead of telling him that she had six years worth of opportunities to watch what he chose for breakfast, not that she had been actively stalking him before or anything (really)—which she was actually sorely tempted to do, Hadria merely said, "You don't have the time for that. And a centipede used the baked beans for a dip."

Draco made a funny face at that, which Hadria wished she could immortalise with a camera. Where was Colin Creevey when she needed him? Oh right, he was a year younger than them and had yet to arrive at Hogwarts.

"Is no one going to explain the centipedes?" Pansy Parkinson finally came over to complain. "I can't eat my breakfast with them crawling all over and there are so many _legs_."

"Ask Hadria," was Draco's reply. While Hadria coughed into her milk.

"It's not my fault. I had nothing to do with it, I swear!"

She did not discreetly glance at the Weasley twins at this.

(Who else could it be? It was totally their style to prank people with things that couldn't be stopped or removed, and if Hadria wasn't wrong, it was almost like a whispered challenge, _"We heard from our brother that you sent him a spider. Well done! But we can do better."_ Which really would've worked better if there were more Slytherins that were squeamish about creepy crawlies).

Except she did, glance at the Weasley twins, that is, and it was far from discreet.

"My father is going to hear about this."

"No, he isn't," was Hadria's decisive reply, and Draco looked at her, a little wide-eyed at the immediate negative. She merely went on to give her nastiest grin, the one that said that things were going to go very _Hadria_. "Because we'll be pranking them back."

Now he looked like a pale goldfish. "We are…?"

"Yes, we are."

And that was that.

It simply wasn't possible for anyone to not get swept up in Hadria's wake when she was in motion. Even something, like getting served by her only to be ordered about just minutes later, was not questioned.

* * *

As Hadria promised, no one found fault with her for the rest of the week.*

Except Parkinson, but she didn't count. And Hadria had yet to see Snape aside from the times he joined the rest of the staff for meals at the High Table, though that was going to change pretty soon.

Herbology with Professor Sprout was more boring than Hadria remembered. Perhaps it was because this was the second time she was learning these things, but they hardly touched any living plants. Instead, they were taught how to identify certain plant parts used for potions, and Hadria really wanted to at least see an actual nettle plant, not just their dried leaves.

The first Charms lesson was not quite as boring, because the tiny Professor Flitwick had used a pile of books to see over his desk, and when he called out Hadria's name during the roll-call, he fell off (and out of sight) rather comically. It had been surprising the first time, and it was just as funny this time. But the rest of the lesson had been about theory. Hadria took great delight in answering the tricky questions that Hermione had no chance of answering because they were no longer in the same House. She wasn't sure when it started, but a competition began from somewhere along the way, wherein they'd compete to see who could gain more points for their Houses by answering questions in class.

The worst lesson, however, was History of Magic. Or perhaps one could say it was the best, because Hadria took the time to concoct wild plans for pranking that Draco would shoot down each time because they were simply too absurd. He simply did not share the same sense of humour that she had.

(Binns still had to go, even though Hadria did like the idea of a paranormal teacher).

(Perhaps she could convince Headless Nick or the Bloody Baron to take up the job? Or maybe even all the House ghosts. And they could have guest Professors when other ghosts visited).

(Again, Draco did not share her enthusiasm at having another ghost as their History Professor, headless, bloody, or otherwise).

But it was in their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that Hadria finally managed to earn some brownie points with Parkinson, as the lesson turned into something more like _Defence Against the DADA Professor_.

Firstly, they were seated (where Hadria sat, Draco would sit, and Parkinson would follow) right at the front. Hadria thought it was a good position to question the Professor about his adventures with vampires and zombies. Parkinson must have agreed, because after Hadria taught her classmates the Bubble-Head Charm, she was like a second Rita Skeeter in the making.

Secondly, well, the Bubble-Head Charm was just the spell that Parkinson had, at that very point in time, desperately needed. The smell of garlic in the classroom was simply so overpowering that it brought tears to the eyes of many students, and it was especially horrid right at the front of the class, where they sat.

Poor Quirrell didn't know what hit him.

Hadria almost pitied him. Almost.

(It was hard to pity someone when one was too excited about messing with said someone and the other person at the back of said someone's head).

Still, the best lesson, Hadria found, was Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall turned her desk into a cow of all things, and made them turn fire-starters into shiny pointy objects right after.

Unfortunately, Draco _and_ Pansy _and_ Zabini made sure she did not light any matchstick either on purpose or accident, not only because it was dangerous, but also because they did not want to lose any House points so early in the year. So Hadria had to settle for turning her matchstick into a tiny silver tabby.

When McGonagall came around to check on them, she found Draco fencing with Zabini, wooden needle against metal-coated matchstick. Pansy was the only one still trying to turn hers into a needle—hers was still most definitely a matchstick, even though it was now the colour of flint. She was very determined to not have anything to do with the boys' random bout of childishness, which she blamed Hadria for, even though said girl had been ignoring the three of them for more than half an hour. Hadria's metallic cat was sitting very stiffly on her desk, even as she tried to spell it to move, but to no avail. She really needed to find out how Professor McGonagall does it… Or just ask Gellert, really.

"Mr Zabini, Mr Malfoy, a point from Slytherin each, for fooling about in class. Please do try harder in turning your matchsticks into needles," the stern-faced teacher said as she passed them by. Then she took a glance at Hadria's desk, and appeared to suppress a smile. "And Miss Potter, you may earn five points for Slytherin for a Transfiguration well done."

In the end, they'd gotten three points, of which Hadria was exceedingly proud of, while Draco whined about the two points they lost just for having a bit of fun.

Hermione was equally displeased because she had only managed to metal-coat her matchstick and make it pointed (only Padma Patil managed to do the same by the end of their class, though Hermione was still the first to do so) but hadn't gotten any points from it, just a rare smile from McGonagall, though Hadria claimed it was far more valuable than a few House points. ("I was so close," Hadria had exclaimed emphatically. "I swear her lips twitched when she saw my cat!")

Then came Friday, the last school day of their first week.

By then, Hadria was known amongst the staff as a bright and intelligent girl who was perhaps a bit of a genius but preferred to jump right into things after a brief glance at the theory. It made her shine in practical lessons, but when there was theory to be learnt, she could be found doodling nonsense in her textbook or scrap pieces of parchment.

But the general consensus amongst the school population was that it would be all too easy to forget that she was a Slytherin if not for the fact that green was a colour that suited her well.

In fact, any Slytherin would admit (if only to themselves) that Hadria did not behave at all like a Slytherin, and they had to respect her for it… Because most of them were Slytherin enough to realise that her behaviour made them rethink what was Slytherin and what wasn't.

Being nice and friendly with everyone? She could gain a loyal crowd like that, and it would be a useful cover for when she eventually does something nasty.

Laughing and skipping to classes like a child? It wasn't directly against the principle of being shrewd or ambitious, so why should they frown upon it?

Disregarding their Pureblood customs and ignoring the proper way of things, either accidentally or on purpose? Why in Salazar's proud name were they letting Crabbe and Goyle blunder about like they'd been brought up by Muggle bouncers?

Still, everyone got used to Hadria the way First years get used to finding their way to class in a magical castle. Because even when Friday came—and everyone who went to the Great Hall for breakfast left looking like they'd just participated in some sort of cross-dressing Japanese cosplay café—nobody suspected her. It helped that the Weasley twins had already built a reputation for themselves, and they were the first to be suspected for the prank.

An enraged Snape in maid uniform took twenty points from them, but they escaped detention only because Dumbledore believed them when they said they were innocent of the prank, and Hadria thought she might have caught Professor McGonagall secretly return the points back to them, if only because many of the boys, including the twins, looked hilarious in skirts and ribbons with cat ears and tails.

The Slytherins were the first to recover from the prank, only because they heard from the perpetuator herself that the effects would last only two hours, and the earlier they had their breakfast, the faster they could get over it. Some of the older Slytherins tried to escape by going straight to the kitchens for their breakfast, but unfortunately for them, she had charmed the kitchen entrance too.

By the time the Slytherins gathered in the dungeons for their Double Potions class, they were all back to normal, while most of the Gryffindors were still dolled-up. The girls were better off of course, as none of them really minded wearing smart tuxedos or male dress robes.

Only two Gryffindors boys—Dean and Seamus—were back in their (male) Hogwarts uniform, because they too, had their breakfast early, having overestimated the time they'd take to find their way to the Great Hall. Ron's clothes were almost back to normal, but there were a lot of frills and laces that had yet to disappear.

Professor Snape was dressed in his usual black robes when he swept in for lesson, which Hadria thought might be a good thing, because it was utterly hilarious when he had been affected—she felt she might need to get her own camera before the term was over or perhaps a Pensieve, if Gellert would allow it—but while a peeved Snape was totally alright, she didn't want a furious Snape as her Potions instructor.

She still choked whenever she recalled what Snape looked like in a maid outfit. Draco himself had been torn between Scourgify-ing his own eyes upon seeing maid-Snape and strangling Hadria for including him in the prank. Blaise, however, was very good-humoured about the whole thing and didn't seem to mind that he had to wear a sailor girl uniform. Indeed, he spent most of his name laughing at their Housemates, some of whom, like Draco, was forced into Lolita dresses for half an hour.

But class had to go on as per normal, despite the school-wide prank that morning.

Surprisingly enough, however, this time around, Professor Snape did not make any comment when he came to her name in the roll call. In fact, he said the next name 'Dean Thomas' right after he said hers, before she could even respond with, "Here, sir."

Hadria felt a bit bemused by that.

And immediately after his brilliant speech about Potion-making, which Hadria committed to memory—she was going to write down the entire thing, word-for-word to Gellert when it was time for her to send him her first letter of the week, just to irk him—Snape turned to a black-whiskered redhead and said, "Weasley! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Green eyes blinked, and Hadria found herself rather unexpectedly annoyed because that the question hadn't been directed at her. After all, that question _belonged_ to her, did it not? But Snape must still be delaying any further interaction with her, and while it had been funny at first, it was starting to get irritating. _She_ should have been asked that question, not Ronald Weasley.

They had bumped into each other, little more than a month ago, Severus Snape and she, at the European Annual Potions Convention. Hadria, being Hadria, had ended up behaving like a strange little girl who had recently converted to the Religion of Potions after meeting a Potions Prophet, and had treated Snape, who was said Potions Prophet, like he was the best Potions Brewer in the entire continent (which may or may not be correct):

_"A Master? Even Gerwald isn't a Master! What's your name, sir? Have you invented any potions? Written any books? Can I have your autograph, sir?"_

Of course, she had also conveniently left out her full name and had simply said her name was Hadria. And had promptly taken advantage of the momentary weakness all people had when they were steamrolled in a fashion they had not expected.

_"But why does the direction of stirring make a difference?"_

_"If everything must be so precise, how can anyone just say 'add three porcupine quills'? I'm sure not all the quills are of the same length or mass? Shouldn't there be a more accurate way of finding out how much you need?"_

_"And when you heat the potion until it turns a certain colour, how do you know when to stop? Green? Lime green? Apple green? How much green is green? And what if the colour of your cauldron, or your own colour perception affects what you see? What if I'm colour blind?"_

Snape had still been tolerant enough to help her find Gellert (whom she had lost) though, if only because he didn't want to risk her destroying something which might happen if he were to leave her wandering by herself.

But he must have figured out who she really was sometime during the past month, and it couldn't have been that bad, surely? Because it definitely said something when Professor Snape of all people was _avoiding_ her—Hadria Potter, the Unexpected Slytherin, Girl-Who-Lived and Daughter of James Potter and Lily Potter (nee Evans)—the way she might avoid _Lockhart_.

Then Ron Weasley replied, rather uncertainly, "I don't know, sir." It was as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed not to know the answer. Which was understandable, because Snape promptly gave him a look that he had perfected really well—the one that suggested that you had behaved exactly as he had expected, by falling short of what little hopes he actually had for you.

"Well, since Weasley here has evidently not opened his textbook since he received them," Snape said as he glanced away from Ron with a condescending sneer. "Perhaps we could have…"

And here, his eyes passed over Hadria who was sitting with her elbows on the table, chin resting in her hands as she gave him her best adorable-kitten-expression.

_Me me me memememe, pick me!_ Hadria thought, half-hoping he'd get the hint via Legilimency or something.

Then…

"Perhaps we could have Potter, our newest _celebrity_ , to answer the question for us?"

Hadria brightened up at the drawling silky words (something that struck the rest of the class as an inappropriate response). Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

"Yes, sir!" She chirped, and saluted, half expecting him to dock points for her cheek. "You can use them to brew the Draught of Living Death."

But Snape did not take any points. Instead, the Professor actually said, "One point to Slytherin, for the correct answer." And he continued on to say, "Now, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Once again, Hadria found herself wondering what people would say if she were to reply, _"In the storage stomach of my Lethifold, sir."_

She didn't, for obvious reasons. She wanted to mess with them without getting herself caught in the mess.

"The butcher, sir, because I'd rather not be the one cutting open a goat's stomach," Hadria replied instead, which earned her a raised eyebrow, a sigh, and another two points for Slytherin—one for the correct answer, and another for being practical.

"And the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Professor Snape asked, sounding almost resigned.

Hadria grinned, and before Draco or Pansy could stop her (for they did indeed sit up the moment they noticed the look on her face), she said, liltingly, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet."

She was rewarded with an unimpressed stare. "Potter is right, for the answer is that there is no difference. They are the same plant, and is also known as aconite. But Miss Potter, please refrain from quoting Shakespeare in my class in the future."

She nodded obligingly, but did not bother suppressing her smile. It seemed like Professor Snape had finally gotten over whatever had been afflicting him the past week, and she could have more fun with him.

"You know, perhaps if you had answered that last one properly, we could have earned more points," Draco harped when they were assigned a potion for curing boils. "Granger might have gotten twice the amount of points for her Potions lesson! You're not allowed to lose to her, you know."

"I highly doubt it," Pansy piped up. "I only know the answer to these questions because Mother said that the study of flowers was something a Lady should learn." But Hermione would've read all she could about them anyway, just because she could, even if she wasn't a Heiress.

"Asphodel…" Draco muttered and flipped his textbook. (Hadria didn't think anyone but the Ravenclaws had read their books beforehand). "That's the plant with white flowers, right?"

"There are many plants with white flowers, Draco dear," Pansy replied, almost patronisingly. "Asphodels are the ones that bloom in spiky clusters. They're known for their association with Death." And went on to explain under what circumstances could one put asphodels in a bouquet and what it might mean when it was given to another, depending on what other flowers it was accompanied by.

_"Um, a token of thanks and apology," Hadria said, and produced a bouquet of flowers the way magicians do—with exaggerated flourish and bow. The bouquet was a bundle of silver-grey cloth wrapped below spikes of white inflorescence interspersed with the forest-green and chestnut-brown of sepals and leaves. "I heard from Gerwald that they could be useful for Potions?"_

Shaking her head with an amused grin, Hadria decided to pair up with the quiet Nott, who looked like he wasn't sure if her presence was a relief—it could have been worse, if he had to pair up with Crabbe or Goyle who should never, under any circumstance, pair up with each other—or a hazard, but was too polite to say anything about it. She had to change seats with Zabini to do so, but he was all too agreeable, because _he_ would rather pair up with Draco than risk pairing up with her.

At the moment, the blonde boy was suffering from the verbal diarrhoea that Pansy had enthusiastically embraced. The other girl was starting to sound like Hermione—if Hermione were the type to gift people expensive cheese wrapped with poisonous leaves.

Even as Hadria tried to get some Potions done—because Nott was trying to do everything himself, evidently not trusting her to handle their potion safely—she could hear Draco finally interrupting Pansy as she paused for breath, "But why would _I_ need to know this?"

Much to Hadria's surprised delight, he actually got a venomous look from Pansy. "It's flowers, Draco."

" _So?_ Flowers is a girls' thing."

"He's digging himself a grave," Nott observed. His tone was indifferent, but when Hadria turned to glance at him, he looked almost amused.

Hadria chuckled. "I can hardly believe _Pansy's_ actually scolding _Draco_."

"I got the same lecture from my mother, actually," Zabini commented forlornly. (Hadria vaguely wondered if he had ever watched any of his step-fathers court the woman who would be their death).

The poor boy was stuck between the quarrelling pair, however, and was doing most of the potion brewing that he was supposed to share with Draco. Daphne was better off, because Pansy was actually helping out while she lectured to Draco about the gentlemanly custom of giving girls flowers, while the Malfoy scion stared at her like a boggart faced with too many people.

By the time Double Potions was over, nearly everyone had forgotten the cross-dressing morning. Until someone gave Dean Thomas the brilliant idea of selling full-body drawings for two sickles each, but wisely made sure that drawings of Professors were off-limits. Hadria returned to the Slytherin common room after a tea with Hagrid to find posters of Percy Weasley in skirts lying about.

Then, when the lights went off and the dormitories were cast in the deep turquoise glow of moonlight filtering through lake water and glass, the girls lit up their wands and began trading pictures.

Before she went to sleep, Hadria managed to get a drawing of every one of her friends, a particularly hilarious one of Crabbe and Goyle together in twin outfits, and even one of a Professor—which she had to pay a galleon for, because it was literally one-of-a-kind. She didn't know how Tracey did it, but she had managed to get Dean Thomas to draw it for her, somehow.

It was a good end to a good week.

* * *

***By the way, the first of September, 1991, is a Sunday, which means that the first lesson of the year starts on a Monday. I checked. And... I just realised... Letters! Therefore...***

* * *

***Have some extras!***

* * *

It is the end of the first week of school, it is an hour past curfew, and everyone is in bed.

Somewhere in Cornwall, Gellert Grindelwald receives a letter delivered by Holly.

_Dear Gerwald,_

_How are you? Do you miss me? Well I promised I would write, didn't I?_

_Hogwarts is awesome. They've got an enchanted ceiling that looks like the sky outside, and school ghosts and even a poltergeist! And they've also got a giant squid in the lake. It's really friendly. It sometimes waves at me when it swims past our dormitory windows (our dorms are in the dungeon). But it's really big, so you usually just see a tentacle or two._

_I've been Sorted into Slytherin, by the way. The Hat actually considered—Oh right. The Hat. We have a talking singing Hat that Sorts us into our Houses. You put it on, and it'll look through your mind and decide which House you belong to. But the Hat considered all four Houses for me. Guess how I got into Slytherin!_

_The Hat has a sense of humour, that's how! I told it about the deal I made with Draco, you see. Oh, I forgot to mention… Draco is a new friend of mine. Draco Malfoy. He's blonde and pale and a bit snobbish, but he's also kind of funny. You should see him with Snag. Draco's in Slytherin with me, and he's looking after Snag now. That's the deal I made with him—I get into Slytherin, he helps me look after Snag. And apparently the Hat thought Draco keeping a Jarvey would be hilarious too, because I told it about this deal, and the Hat said, "Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that."_

_I made other friends too! There's Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn Ravenclaw. She's just brilliant. She's really smart, and she devours books the way Noh devours goats. And she's also got really bushy hair._

_Then there's Neville Longbottom. He's the boy at the station with the toad and the weirdly-dressed grandmother. He's a bit shy, but he's a great guy. Hufflepuff, you know. Apparently they've got Venomous Tentacula as a House 'pet' in their common room._

_Finally, there's Fred and George, the Weasley twins. First day of school and they left huge centipedes on the Slytherin table at breakfast as a prank. They're also saying that they plan on sending their mother a toilet seat. Don't worry, I won't send you a toilet seat._

_But here's a picture of our esteemed Headmaster in sailor girl uniform. Please take good care of it. Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor in my year, drew it for me. I had to pay him a galleon for it, since it's an exclusive drawing of a Professor._

_(This is the result of a prank I played on the whole school at breakfast on Friday morning. Most think the twins did it. Don't tell.)_

_Anyway, the Professors are… interesting. Professor McGonagall can turn into a cat, you know. And Professor Flitwick is half-goblin. Meanwhile, Professor Quirrell wears a turban that smells like he filled the entire thing with garlic. And Professor Binns is a ghost. But Professor Snape's the best. We met him at the Potions Convention, remember? Well, we had him for Double Potions, and he opened the lesson with this speech:_

_"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."_

_Word. For. Word. He makes Potions so interesting! We nearly had an explosion—he stopped it in time. Which is a pity, an explosion would have been nice, but he's good that way._

_He's also my Head of House, by the way. Aren't I lucky?_

_Anyway, that's all for now. I think._

_With lots and lots of love,_

_From Hadria._

_P.S. The third-floor corridor is out of bounds. Apparently, you'd die a painful death if you go there. Think I should give it a try? Draco says it's a bad idea though. But then Draco is a regular spoilsport._

* * *

 

Meanwhile, somewhere in Wiltshire, Narcissa passes a letter over to her husband, Lucius, and tells him, "We should invite Hadria over for Yule."

And Lucius unfolds the letter, wondering who 'Hadria' was.

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_It's been a week since school has started, and I'm settling in fine. The classes aren't too difficult, and I'm certain I'm amongst the top three of our year thus far._

_I've been Sorted into Slytherin, as you might have expected. But as you might not have expected—_

There was a series of ink blotches here, and a small paw print.

_—I apologise for the mess. This is my fourth time penning this letter, and I have given up on sending out clean copy. It's all the Jarvey's fault._

There are more ink blotches here, and the handwriting changes slightly hear, from a careful calligraphy to sharp scribbles betraying the writer's irritation.

_Blasted Jarvey. Making a mess everywhere. And I can't even get it removed from my person! I regret to say that I am now keeping a Jarvey by the name of Snag. It's Hadria's Jarvey, really. But we made a deal—I regret it now—but a deal's a deal._

_Thrice-cursed Potter. That's right. It's all Potter's fault. (And the Sorting Hat. We agreed that I'd look after her pet Jarvey if she were to join me in Slytherin. She conspired with the Hat and now there's a damn Jarvey in my bed. Is the Hat sentient?)_

_I'm sure you would be pleased to know that I have managed to make friends with Hadria Potter, but I'm not sure if it's worth it. Why, just yesterday, she humiliated me! Of course, she humiliated the entire male population at Hogwarts too, so it wasn't too bad. You should've seen the youngest Weasel. I think it was his first time wearing brand new clothes. I've included a picture drawn by someone in our year._

_Hadria Potter is nothing like we expected, however. She's got the daring of a Gryffindor, the curiosity of a Ravenclaw, the heart of a Hufflepuff and the shrewdness of a Slytherin. She had a lot of us fooled at first—almost jumped into the Lake like a Gryffindor so that she could meet the Giant Squid, you know. But now, I know better. She's a Slytherin, all right._

_Did you know, I met the Longbottom boy on the train? He was a snivelling wreck because he lost his toad. But just this morning, Hadria managed to persuade him to let us into the Hufflepuff common room—that's right, he's a Hufflepuff—and he was friends with their resident Venomous Tentacula! He looked positively scary when he told the plant not to be shy and that we weren't enemies and wouldn't harm it. I don't know how the Puffs got such a plant in their common room, but I swear it's Hadria's fault that Neville's like this. He was such a meek rabbit when we first met and now she's turned him into a Crup. Not literally, of course. But then, I wouldn't put that past her either._

_And would you believe it, she dragged me to visit that oaf Hagrid for tea yesterday! I tried to refuse, but she threatened to encourage her Jarvey to be more of a pain than it usually is. He's got this mangy slobbering dog, and his rock cakes are probably more rock than cake. It was awful._

_But I think Hadria intends drag me down again, every week._

_Father, couldn't you do something about it? Perhaps arrange for the oaf to move to the mountains, or something to that effect?_

_From your desperate son,_

_Draco._

_P.S. Do you know of a Gerwald Grinsen? Hadria says that's the name of her current guardian. He's half-German, half-Hungarian. According to her, her guardian's a dangerous wizard. A really dangerous one. I don't think she's kidding. You should've seen her face when she said it. She looked like a demon!_

_P.S.S. If Blaise or Pansy or Hadria ever sends you a letter, please set it on fire immediately._

_P.S.S.S. Hadria says she'd like to visit our Manor one day, because I accidentally told her about our white peacocks. Please say no._


	12. Trick-or-Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Hadria Potter and the Unfortunate Combination between Weasley Twins and Halloween

**Chapter Twelve: Trick-or-Treat**

* * *

_" Flamma fumo est proximaa." Flame follows smoke. — Plautus_

* * *

Hadria knew what was going to happen the moment she saw the notice about the Thursday Flying class. Or rather, she knew how it would've gone in her original timeline and world.

But the Sorting had changed, and that made all the difference, what with Hadria in Slytherin and Neville in Hufflepuff. So there wouldn't be any Remembralls for Draco to pick up that day, and Hadria wouldn't have any need to be a good girl and get it back for Neville.

(Later, on Thursday, Hadria would find out that Neville had indeed dropped his Remembrall—again?—when he fell off his broom during the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class. Hermione had been the one who picked it up and helped him keep it until Madam Pomfrey had seen to it that his wrist was fixed up. Fate had a sense of humour, as Hadria had come to realise).

It was a fine but chilly day, when Hadria, Draco and Pansy walked out of the castle, with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

The group was twice the size of the Golden Trio that Hadria was used to, but Pansy had begun getting comfortable around Hadria ever since she realised having the girl around was actually a lot more helpful than not. And she still had that crush on Draco which probably wouldn't disappear for years to come. Meanwhile, Blaise was only hanging out with them for the entertainment. As for Crabbe and Goyle? Hadria wasn't sure if they were capable of doing anything but follow Draco… yet.

At the moment, the group had just found out that the flying lesson would be the Hadria's first time on a broom… In this life, at least.

"You've never been on a broom before?" Draco demanded, like it was a crime. It probably was, in his opinion.

"Eh… Flying on a broomstick never came up," Hadria replied sheepishly. And it really hadn't.

They've taken the plane a few times before (Hadria didn't like those trips—planes had a funny smell and the food was nearly always awful and she wasn't allowed to use a single bit of magic lest the plane crash or something due to the interference) and thus Hadria had a German passport.

But Gellert would mostly ride on Nacht, because, for some reason, he seemed to think that it'd be dangerous for Hadria to ride on something she supposedly couldn't see. And Hadria would get to ride on Geist… As if riding a Boggart that could change shape mid-flight wasn't more dangerous.

However, the raven-haired girl was still trying to train Noh to glide higher than a few metres off the ground, even though Gellert had told her more than once that a Lethifold was  _not_  a flying carpet. For now, she had to make do with Noh as a hover-carpet.

"Never came up?" Even Pansy sounded incredulous, despite the fact that by now, Hadria knew that the girl didn't care for any physical activity.

"I've ridden on a Boggart before, if that helps?"

This was met with silence and all-round befuddlement. Draco looked like he was seriously regretting ever getting to know Hadria, Pansy seemed like she was contemplating how best to pretend she never heard the statement, while Blaise was the only one who looked amused. (It didn't need to be said that the two minions didn't really understand enough of what was going on to give an appropriate reaction).

"Wait… You're  _serious_?" Draco managed at last, when Hadria continued to look at them expectantly with such sincerity.

"Well, technically, it's my godfather who is—"

* * *

Hadria was still nursing a bruise when they met the Gryffindors at a large lawn, one of the few flat ones amongst the other grassy slopes. There were only a couple of Gryffindors there when they arrived, and the instructor had yet to make an appearance either.

"Even my old broom is in better condition than the best of these," Draco was saying when the rest of their classmates finally arrived, waving a hand to gesture at the school brooms. Hadria had to agree that as stuck-up as Draco sounded, he had a point.

The brooms looked like they had been in used since her grandfather's era.

Then the instructor arrived: Madam Hooch, a witch who was older than Professor McGonagall and looked like she might just burst into feathers and fly away. She had a youthful face despite the crow's feet and short spiky gray hair, her eyes sharp and golden like a bird of prey.

 _Hawkeye_ , Hadria sniggered to herself, not caring that Pansy was giving her a weird look.

After Madam Hooch finished giving her instructions, Hadria eyed the school broom and for a moment, wondered if someone had thrown it at the Whomping Willow. Then she shrugged, and with a confident grin, said, "Up!"

The broom shot up straight into her hands with the enthusiasm of a puppy finally allowed for a walk. Then she looked around to see how her friends—Was Pansy a friend? Was Blaise?—were doing.

Pansy's broom quivered a little before it reluctantly flew into her waiting hand. Draco's was as eager to fly as hers, but the same couldn't be said about many of her other House-mates. Blaise seemed like he couldn't care less if his broom wasn't cooperating, while Crabbe and Goyle had actually resorted to picking up the brooms from the floor themselves.

The Gryffindors weren't fairing much better. Ron's broom obeyed him, and so did Dean's and Fay's, but Padma's broom seemed to like the ground better, while Lavender's broom simply rolled away from her.

But after Madam Hooch corrected the way the others commanded their brooms as well as how to hold onto one properly—Hadria stuck out her tongue at Draco when it was revealed that she, supposed first-timer, had a correct grip whereas Draco had been holding his broom wrongly for years—they were finally allowed to have a go at hovering a feet off the ground… Which was as boring as it sounded.

It was, however, a proper flying lesson.

That meant learning how to steer one's broom in the air, and how to pick up speed or slow down… In other words, things that Hadria already knew how to do so instinctively.

She thought she could hear her soul sing when she soared through the air and Draco ended up hollering something like, " _And you've 'never been on a broom before'?_ " but the wind was loud and Hadria barely heard him.

When the practice session was over, Madam Hooch tested them by asking them to fly through several enchanted rings in the correct order with a time-limit.

Some people were just hopeless. Crabbe and Goyle went off-course after the first few rings, though Hadria knew that with a lot of practice, they could be terrifying Beaters. Meanwhile, Lavender fainted from motion sickness before the test even started.

Only Draco, Hadria and Ron passed the test with literal flying colours.

"Probably the only thing he's doing well in," Draco sneered, when the lesson was over. (The Weasley in question was thankfully not paying enough attention to hear him). Pansy giggled, while Hadria just whacked the back of his white-blonde head with her broom.

When he turned to glare at her, she grinned innocently. "Oh dear, it seems like this old school broom is acting up again." And proceeded to 'accidentally' hit his side with the broom handle.

"Hadria dear," Pansy sighed dramatically before Draco could get snarky. "That was just shameful. We really need to teach you how to behave like a lady."

"Perhaps she could become a Beater next year," Blaise suggested.

Draco scowled. "Don't encourage her! And besides, look at her size… She isn't Beater-material—Ouch! Curse you, Potter! I swear to Merlin, I'm telling my father!"

Hadria and Pansy exchanged a glance, but Hadria shook her head with a grin. Pansy pursed her lips and said nothing.

The both of them had breakfast together that morning, seeing as the boys tended to wake up later, and the latter had seen the former receive a letter  _and_  some chocolates from Narcissa Malfoy herself.

And… Draco didn't need to know that.

* * *

They fell into a routine. Every Monday, the Weasley Twins will prank the school, and it would be Hadria's turn the next Wednesday.

The pranks ranged from temporary vandalism, like turning a classroom into an aquarium (the threshold was charmed to keep the water in even when the door was opened), to flashy stunts, like making everyone grow a beard while their clothes are turned pink (the only one who wasn't affected was Dumbledore, because there had really been no point in that). The pranks weren't always large-scaled or terribly complicated, but they were always satisfying to see in action.

Then, Hadria and Pansy (who had joined in only when she thought it might impress Draco) decided it would be fun to conjure large mirrors all over the walls of the corridors, such that older students got confused when walking through, while several first-years actually got lost.

It had been a Tuesday, one day early, and a few of her friends were quite miffed about it.

The Slytherins didn't mind—they shared classes together, and Hadria's new group of friends realised that following her around the castle would ensure that mirrors or not, they'd make it to class on time. But several other students were upset because her prank was  _early_ , which meant that they hadn't been expecting it, which was really the whole point.

Hermione, on the other hand, was annoyed, as usual, because she didn't approve of pranking at all. The smart girl ended up making things easier—and more boring—by putting up signs that indicated the correct directions to the various parts of the castle. The signs were taken down after the mirrors were removed, however, because Hadria managed to convince Hermione that it would do the next batch of first-years well to memorise directions to their classes themselves.

"The experience would be good for them", she had said.

After that, the routine was broken, and pranks would erupt at random at any time of day and week. Sometimes, the pranks lasted more than a day.

It took some time before Hermione was convinced that all of these pranks helped the students learn better though.

"Constant vigilance!" Hadria said, quoting Mad-Eye. Actually, she yelled it. Quite frequently, much to the Professors' exasperation, particularly those who had experienced it from the Auror himself. Well, Dumbledore was always amused, blue eyes twinkling in rare moments like this, which was an interesting change from the usual mildly-concerned looks he had been giving her since the start of the term.

The fact that more and more students were visiting the library, taking the initiative to learn more than was required, might have helped with the persuasion. The teachers had also begun to ignore the pranks, letting the students deal with them instead.

Thus, many students were forced to learn assorted spells in advance (hence the growing population of library-visitors), as well as to think twice before walking through any door, because thresholds were the easiest methods of marking the spatial boundaries of a prank.

It was almost funny to see the Gryffindors, daring one another to be the first to enter or exit any room, just in case there was a prank laid in store for them. Though if there were any Ravenclaws around, they'd usually step forward and cast spells to reveal and undo whatever enchantments had been placed.

Marcus Belby, a second-year Ravenclaw, became rather well-known for killing or dissolving whatever plant or animal was conjured in a prank, by pouring the appropriate potion on the organism. It was mostly trial-and-error, but it usually worked on the second or third attempt. (There was a plant that liked to trip people, courtesy of Neville, who had secretly asked Professor Sprout for help, that grew ten times its size after Belby watered it with the wrong potion).

Meanwhile, the Slytherins would, of course, go last at all times—unless they were with Hadria, who liked to trigger the traps first thing, for the fun of it—in a wise move of wait-and-observe approach.

As for the Hufflepuffs? Hadria thought they were smarter than any Ravenclaw, for they had, instead of burying themselves in books, diligently taken a month to figure out who, aside from the Weasley twins, the other pranksters were.

Then, they figured out within the next week, how to escape the prank early. Most of them were good-natured enough to take the pranks with merriment, but after an hour or two, they'd seek out Hadria and her friends.

Give a tip to Neville about how to take care of a certain plant, help Hermione find a certain book, compliment Draco on his hair or outfit or new items, offer Hadria a piece of chocolate or two… There even a Hufflepuff named Tamsin Applebee who gave Pansy a bag of tea leaves (that when brewed properly, could be used as a mild sleeping draught).

It was almost Slytherin, the way they went about doing it… Even Pansy was reluctantly impressed.

And no one else was any wiser. No one seemed to notice that an hour or so after a Hufflepuff interacted with Hadria or her friends, said Hufflepuff would no longer have atrocious green hair, or tap dance along the hallways, or sound like they'd inhaled helium whenever they talked.

Still, it took three Slytherins, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff to work together (inter-House-unity!) and stun and restrain their mutual friend one day, when they realised that it was a very high possibility that she might just free the Cerberus from the third floor classroom where it was kept. Then, as a precaution, they got the Weasley Twins to keep jinxing students to sing or whistle for a week.

But Halloween came and a Truce was made.

* * *

When the Slytherins entered their common room that morning, they found a strange black thing standing there. If not for the creepy white mask it wore, with black pupil-less eyes and a blood-red mimicry of an innocent smile, they would have thought some deity had cut out the very fabric of the world in the outline of a cloaked human, because that was what it looked like—a dark negative space in the middle of the softly-lit sea-green-tinted common room.

Before anyone could gasp or ask what-on-earth-is-that, the Japanese-masked thing turned, and they saw haunting green eyes and a wide toothy grin in the shadow of a hood.

"Bloody hell, Potter, what are you wearing?"

The thing that was really Hadria Potter fished out a carved-pumpkin-basket from the depths of her cloak, and held it out, smiling oh-so-sweetly. "Trick-or-treat?"

Blaise was the first one to chuckle and walk up to her, dropping a chocolate frog into her basket as he did so.

"What happens if we don't give you a treat?" Draco asked, glaring at the cheeky girl. He wouldn't admit it—well, he did admit (read: complain about it) to his parents, though that didn't count—but Hadria was starting to get a little too strange for his liking.

"Do you really want to find out, Malfoy?" Higgs laughed, walking in from the corridor leading to the boys' dormitories.

It was common knowledge by then that Draco had a terribly troublesome Jarvey that wasn't his. It was also becoming common knowledge that his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, liked Hadria.

Sometime later, Hadria managed to persuade— _Yes, it's a Muggle thing, but there are traditional Wizarding communities doing it, come on, it could be a treat, and of course, I've checked! It isn't against the school rules as long as you're still wearing your school robes no matter the state of it_ —some of the other Slytherins to join in. The use of cloaks (that everyone wondered where she got them all from), masks, blood-red paint, make-up, Disillusionment charms, Colour-changing charms were all liberally used.

When the group of Slytherins walked to the Great Hall, they found the Weasley twins were standing outside.

Or rather, they were probably the Weasley twins, because what everyone really saw were two black hooded cloaks floating in mid-air and two pairs of white gloves holding a basket each.

"Trick-or-treat," their disembodied voices chorused. Hadria took some of her own candies and dropped it into their baskets. Then she turned round to grin at the wary Slytherins.

"Better treat them—it's the Weasley twins."

If the school staff minded the dressed-up students, or trick-or-treating they didn't mention it. Not during breakfast at the Great Hall, or during lessons. Professor Flitwick even gave some students points for good charm-work, while other students claimed they heard Dumbledore giving Gryffindor points for excellently-brewed Polyjuice, because there was a Weasley twin walking around… Except that this Weasley twin wasn't dressed-up for Halloween at all, unless one counted the very appearance of a Weasley twin as a terrifying thing. Meanwhile, Lee Jordan was missing, so it didn't take very long for anyone to figure out who the extra Weasley really was.

Gradually, certain students began to realise what would happen if they didn't give a dressed-up student a treat.

Doors would lock themselves (and  _Alohomora_  wouldn't work), all manner of creepy crawlies would swarm out of nowhere, fungi would sprout out from their belongings… Hadria heard that there was a student or two who met Peeves while they were doing business in the toilet, and she still wasn't sure how the Weasley twins got the poltergeist to cooperate. There were a couple of Gryffindors who freaked out because their hair were turned into live snakes. Common harmless grass snakes, but they ran screaming to the Hospital Wing anyway.

When none of the Professors turned up for lunch in the Great Hall, Hadria suspected they might have held a staff meeting to decide whether they were going to do anything about the chaos in the school, because it was usually a single school-wide prank for a day.

Usually, once a solution was found, everyone who knew the solution could feel relieved, because it meant they didn't need to worry about the prank for the rest of the day. But this time, it was several different kinds of tricks occurring at the same time, one after another, some of which were somewhat worrying...

Such as the Boggart that was apparently moving homes throughout the day, or the alleged sightings of the Grim—Professor Trelawney was quite spooked by that one, though there were rumours that it was really Hadria in disguise, because the Grim had green eyes instead of the yellow ones it was supposed to have… That rumour quickly dispelled after some students caught Hadria, the Grim and the Boggart, all in the same room, much to the horror of many.

But after lunch, the House-point Hourglasses were still filling up with gems, and no one was reprimanded by the staff (excluding Filch.. and Professor Sprout, who had to put her foot down, "I know you're very passionate about Herbology… No, I don't have a problem with you learning next year's materials! And yes, progress can be achieved through risks and experimentation, but for all our sakes, you may not cross-breed a Walking Plant and a Mandrake for next year's Halloween!")

By evening, half the Hospital Wing was filled, while the remaining students all looked like they had all walked out of a haunted carnival.

Then Hermione and Neville sat down on either side of Draco, who was dressed as an rich vampire, pale face painted white and silver eyes charmed black. He raised an ivory-coloured eyebrow.

"This is the Slytherin table," he pointed out slowly, as if talking to a pair of toddlers. "And you do not belong here."

Hermione merely sniffed. "I checked—there is no rule forbidding a student from sitting at another House's table."

When Pansy looked like she might make a rude remark about blood purity, Neville quickly cut in, "Um, actually, we're looking for the girl who should be sitting at this table? Where's Hadria?"

The first-year Slytherins exchanged glances that ranged from curious to concerned to annoyed. They knew the Longbottom to be a shy Hufflepuff, yet none of them were particularly keen on telling him to mind his own business, particularly the older students who recognised the potted plant he was holding as a mandrake, and the others weren't dumb either—they were beginning to suspect that he was behind most of the plant-based catastrophes that had occurred since the second week of school.

And there was the fact that Neville had raised a pretty good and worrying point:  _Where was their resident prankster?_

"Last I saw, she was comparing the amount of treats she got with the Weasley twins," Nott spoke up.

Everyone shuddered. It was a no secret that the Slytherin girl and the Gryffindor twins had formed an unholy alliance the night before, specially for Halloween's day—it was the only explanation for the day's events.

And that was the reason why the students were barely surprised when a pale and terrified Professor Quirrell burst through the doors of the Great Hall, yelling, "Troll in the dungeons!" After all, many students were too tired to feel much shock, while the rest thought that they should be safe, for they had given treats to those who asked for them.

Then the Slytherins-plus-Hermione-and-Neville looked across the Hall, realised that the Weasley twins were sitting at the Gryffindor table, and that Hadria was not with them.

"I hate to ask, but… How could Hadria possibly let a troll loose in the dungeons?" Hermione said warily.

"It's probably just the Boggart again," Draco replied dismissively, even though that was a question in itself, because none of them knew where the Boggart had come from, nor how Hadria managed to get it to change homes throughout the day.

"Strange that his Boggart is a troll though… I expected it to be a vampire, what with his obsession with garlic."

* * *

The troll was not a Boggart, this much became clear when the Professors instructed the prefects to bring the students back to their dormitories, while they themselves went to investigate the matter.

* * *

"Hadria's still missing," was a common observation, followed by, "Are you sure she isn't in the Gryffindor tower with the Weasley twins?"

"She's going to get into so much trouble," was another.

The main one, however, was, "She couldn't have found a troll and actually led it into the school, right?"

There would be one or two who would suggest, in response to that, "What if the troll got in on its own, and Potter's missing because it's Halloween and you know…"

That would then be followed by uncomfortable silence.

But the most common conclusion was, "Hadria's the only logical explanation for a troll being in the school." Because apparently out of all the different possible ways the troll could have somehow wandered into the supposed safest place in Wizarding Britain, the force called 'Hadria' was the most plausible.

* * *

Meanwhile, the force called 'Hadria' was indeed hard at work, now that she had no one to stop her. The troll had ensured that.

* * *

First was the three-headed dog, which Hagrid had named 'Fluffy', but Hadria knew them as ' _Chnoúdi_ '. It really meant more or less the same thing—'Fluff'—but the Greek version was what Hadria had heard Adrasteia call the puppy back when it was, well, a puppy, in Greece.

It was probably a good thing the gigantic canine recognised her as a friend, because her plan wouldn't be successful otherwise.

Hadria could not speak Dog-tongue or whatever it would be called if it existed, but luckily for her, the Cerberus could understand some simple human instructions, such as, "Sit." or, "Come here."

Or, letting the three heads sniff at a scrap of black cloth saturated with the fumes of assorted potions—Snag had been useful in acquiring that—and saying, "Friend." Followed by giving the three heads a snakeskin-bag of rotting garlic to sniff, and saying, "Enemy."

Then she slipped through the trapdoor, dropped down into the darkness before conjuring flames to drive away the Devil's Snare. It wasn't a particularly good trap, Hadria thought. So she took out several pods from Noh's maw, and planted them in the burnt remains of the Devil's Snare. Fire Seed magically cross-bred with a Self-Fertilising Shrub, which would result in a burning bush that ate people when fully grown.

She had started breeding them the year before, but her fingers weren't as green as she would have liked them to be. She had many failed attempts until Neville explained how magical hybridization of plants worked, something Gellert chose not to teach her for fear she would breed a monster. He was right, of course.

The third obstacle was the room of keys. Hadria caught the correct key, and kept it with her—Why on earth should she leave the correct key there for someone else to find? Surely anyone authorised to come through here could simply ask for Professor Flitwick's help if they really needed it?—after she entered the next chamber, the one with the giant chess set.

Hadria could not play chess to save her life. Oh, she was better at it than Pansy, or Neville, but she was no good against Draco. She remembered how well Ron could play too, and how good Professor McGonagall had to be to make this particular chess game so challenging.

But Hadria had, not an invisibility cloak—that one was still with Dumbledore—but a Lethifold, which she could wrap all around herself until she was just a bundle as dark as darkness itself, and sneak across the chessboard.

The chess pieces couldn't harm her, even when they realised that there was a patch of darkness slithering across their black-and-white battleground, because she was protected by a creature that was amortal. While she wore it over herself, she could never be pierced by any blade or affected by any spell unless it were the Patronus Charm.

It was, Hadria mused, almost as good as her Invisibility Cloak. Almost.

The room beyond was missing a troll, which Hadria was grateful for. Then, because Hadria didn't know how to add enchantments to a chessboard that had already been enchanted by another, she decided to add more protection to this room in it's stead… By taking a leaf out of Gringotts' book and applying the Flagrante curse all over the floor. It would burn anyone who tried to walk across the floor, but the troll's especially thick hide should protect it for the most part, so anyone who wanted to get across would need a broom, or a flying carpet—in Hadria's case, she used a Lethifold—or another creature to ride on, like the troll, or, if one were feeling particularly Dark and suicidal, a Dementor horse might work too.

Then she realised that Professor Quirrell had to return here later to add a troll to this room… And Professor Dumbledore himself would also eventually return to place the Mirror of Erised and the Philosopher's Stone in the last chamber.

So Hadria sighed, because she had actually forgotten that it was still too early in the year, and entered the second last chamber. Snape's chamber.

She easily found the piece of paper that held a riddle. With several complicated twists of her wand, she cast a passive  _Incendio_  on the paper. The flames would only be conjured by the charm when she chooses to activate it.

As Hadria made her way back through the earlier rooms, she decided to add a three month's worth of time-delay to the Flagrante curse, then returned the key to the room of keys, because it really was too early to steal it. When she got to the exit, Hadria pulled out a rickety old school broom she had borrowed—again, it was from Noh's maw—and rode it up to where her plants were still growing slowly. She would have to plant more Devil's Snare to replace the ones she burnt and to cover her new still-growing plants, so as not to raise any suspicion.

(There was no question of competition for nutrients and growth, however, not when it comes to a fiery carnivorous plant).

But Hadria didn't bother to correct Fluffy about the designation of Quirrell as the enemy. No one would suspect a thing if the Cerberus were to attack the teacher who showed the most fear and weakness. Nor if the Cerberus could somehow sniff out his duplicity and attack him for that.

Feeling satisfied with the work she had done, the raven-haired girl returned to the Slytherin Dungeons. It was near midnight, so she fully expected some loss of House points for being evidently  _not_  in the dungeons after curfew. She also expected a nice and peaceful common room awaiting her, with lake-water swirling outside the windows and a warm fire in the hearth, the only golden colour in the green-tinted room.

As it turned out, almost the entire Slytherin first-year batch were gathered there.

Hadria, for the first time in a long while, actually gaped. Perhaps… she should have expected this? Then she blinked. Could this be expected?

"Did… Did we just catch Potter unaware?" Tracey Davis whispered none too softly in a tone akin to awe.

"Yes, Davis, I believe we did," Draco drawled, expression smug. "About time too!"

"You didn't seriously expect us to just quietly go to bed when we're all wondering what you're doing out there with a troll, did you?" This was Pansy, amused.

Hadria took a step back uncertainly, a sheepish deer-caught-in-headlights expression on her face because  _why hadn't she seen this coming?_

Oh, right, it was because her old House hadn't been as nosy as these Slytherins. Back then, she could get away with all sorts of messes and troubles unless it was right in front of the whole school or revealed in front of the whole school via dramatic changes in house points.

"We're waiting," Blaise prompted and Hadria sighed.

"I had nothing to do with the troll. It wasn't me who brought it in," she tried. But the other Slytherins didn't seem to believe her. "Really."

"If you say so," said Draco slowly, evidently unconvinced. "Then how did the troll get in?"

An unnerving grin began to stretch upon the young witch's face, her bewilderment from earlier clearly gone. The Slytherins exchanged wary glances.

"Why, the same way the Cerberus got into the school, I expect," Hadria said with a flash of brilliant inspiration. And watched as they all paled, astonishment, disbelief and a healthy dose of fear lurking in their eyes.

"You're kidding, right?" Theodore ventured. And much to their horror, Draco and Pansy gulped.

"It's true. We've seen it, on the third-floor corridor," said Draco, and no one bothered to point out that the third-floor corridor was forbidden.

"Which means that someone's bringing dangerous creatures into Hogwarts for Hogwarts," Pansy concluded. "Something's going on. Something dangerous. Why else would Hogwarts hold such dangerous creatures? For battle? Protection?"

"Or, they could be adopting dangerous creatures who have lost their old homes?" Blaise commented in jest.

Pansy sent a stinging hex that he dodged. "Don't give Hadria ideas! It's bad enough with a three-headed dog, trolls and Boggarts and possibly a Grim! At this rate, the next thing you'll know, that half-blood is going to bring in dragons and basilisks!"

And Hadria promptly dissolved into a laughing-coughing fit that sounded like she might just sprain her lungs.

 _Well,_  she thought to herself.  _At least no one's asking where I've been anymore._

* * *

**Extras (this, like Ingluvies, isn't exactly Danse-Macabre-canon, btw):**

* * *

Blood dripped from the walls, staining a dark crimson message upon grey stone.

"I hope you weren't the one who wrote that," Draco commented to Hadria with a wrinkled nose. "It's kind of… crude, you know."

Hadria merely stared at the message in mild horror. Then she exploded back into life, arms flailing comically.

"She's in trouble!"

"Who?" Draco demanded, still feeling mildly bewildered even after more than two years of Hadria-exposure. "Granger?"

"No! The Princess!"

"What Princess?"

"The Princess in the Chamber of Secrets! I can't believe I forgot about her!"

"There's a Princess in the—Wait, what the hell?! Potter!"

"No time to talk! Her Highness the Basilisk is probably being controlled by a diary and she needs me!"

Draco gaped at the disappearing raven-head. Then he spun around to glare the equally stunned Pansy and Blaise.

"Remember the troll incident in first year? This. Is.  _All. Your. Fault._ **"**


	13. A Dramatic Play, Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Slytherins have problems. Hadria is probably one of them.

_"Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem." Remember when life's path is steep to keep your mind even. - Horace_

* * *

**The tale of two letters:**

* * *

It came with a box of chocolate. Not from Honeydukes, but somewhere else. Hadria didn't recognise the logo of the brand, but it looked way too expensive. (She didn't mind, of course—it was  _chocolate_ —but she was sure Gellert would have a fit if he knew someone had given her chocolates that cost way more than they should in his not-as-chocolate-obsessed opinion).

_Dear Hadria,_

_I must thank you for that lovely letter you sent us. I fully intend on framing that picture. Your artist is truly talented. You mustn't tell Draco, of course. He doesn't know I haven't set anything of yours on fire yet._

_Enclosed is an invitation to our Yule celebration. I would say that I'm certain Draco himself would invite you closer to December, but he can be very petty, as I'm sure you would realise by now._

_An invitation has also been sent to your guardian, of course, along with the contacts of the family we got our white peacocks from. Your guardian's such a gentleman, but he doesn't seem to share your fascination with our white feathered beauties. You may assure him that they are relatively easy to keep with the aid of House Elves._

_Gerwald has also informed me that you absolutely adore chocolate. I hope you'll enjoy these. They're from Switzerland and Lucius's favourite. He's got such a sweet tooth it's a wonder Draco isn't more partial to caramel desserts than he already is._

_I've heard that you're in Slytherin with my dearest son. How is Hogwarts treating you so far? Or perhaps, I should ask: How have you been treating Hogwarts? I do not think I have read such entertaining letters before this September. I have heard enough to know without a doubt that a meeting with you will have the boys fleeing the country. It's the Black blood. It's a pity Draco barely has a drop in him._

_So would you care to join me for tea during your school vacation? Before the Yule celebration?_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Narcissa_

Hadria made a mental note to put 'caramel desserts' under the list of things Draco liked, and 'sweet tooth' in the pile of information about Lucius.

* * *

A letter from Gellert arrived the next day. It was the third one he had sent her since school had started.

The first could be summarised in a few sentences: _You're a Slytherin. Of course. You have made 'interesting' friends_  (which really meant:  _Malfoy? Prankster twins?_ )  _Don't get caught. Do not under any circumstance go anywhere forbidden. But nice picture of Dumbledore. And I do not need to know so much about your first day in Potions._

The second could be summarised in a few words:  _A pranking war?_

This third one was by far the longest, and it came with a strange wishbone pendant, which was made even stranger by the fact that Gellert had never before bought her any accessories without her prompting.

_Hadria,_

_Why is Narcissa Malfoy sending me brochures about peacocks? Actually, why is Narcissa Malfoy sending me letters in the first place? I know you're friends with her son, but it's only your third week and you're making her son keep Snag, yet she's sending us an invitation to their Yule celebration?_

_I can't decide if I should be proud of you or exasperated... or concerned._

_In any case, we are_ not _having peacocks on our lawn. Your Lethifold and Jarvey are bad enough._

_I expect you'll be receiving chocolates from her soon enough, if she hasn't sent you any already. Please remember to send her a thank-you note in reply and thank her son too. Go easy on the poor boy with Snag, will you?_

_Anyway, good luck with your flying class (which I had to hear about from Narcissa—when I said not to tell me every detail about your Potions lessons, I did not mean for you not to inform me about your classes at all!). Listen to your Professor and make sure you remember how to soften your landing if you do fall. That also means no yelling, "Cannonball!" nor executing any unnecessary somersaulting._

_Enclosed is a Portkey for you to wear around your neck. When you're in danger, or have any need to return home immediately, activate it by saying, "Fuga."_

_Keep out of trouble (I seem to say this a lot, and I'm not sure if you ever bothered to understand what these words mean); I hope not to receive any letter from your Professors or esteemed Headmaster any time this year._

_So, I repeat, if you must continue your prank war, make sure they can't pin it down to you. If you must wander anywhere close to the forbidden areas of your school, make sure you aren't seen. Unless what you're doing is suicidal. In that case, please inform your friends whenever you are about to do something stupid so that one of them can tell the Professors if something goes wrong. Your friends Hermione and Neville sound like they've got sensible heads on their shoulders. Do try and follow their example._

_Take care,_

_Gerwald_

Hadria kept this with the previous two letters in small box in Noh's mouth.

* * *

**And onto the story:**

* * *

There was a list carried by almost every Slytherin student, written on fine parchment that came with instant-dry charms. It was a list that the first years had came up with, and a few of the older years found out, and passed on the information, and now, practically the entire Slytherin House had the list, after which, some prefect took the initiative to teach everyone how to enchant their lists to to look like notes taken from  _Hogwarts: A History._ The real words would only be revealed when someone says the password (" _I've gotten a Troll for Defence._ "):

_Fact 1: The third-floor corridor is forbidden on pain of death._

_Fact 2: Dumbledore knows about the corridor._

_Fact 3: There is a Cerberus in the corridor._

_Fact 4: Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the safest place in the Wizarding world. (Unless you wander into the Forbidden Forest which is forbidden for a reason)._

_Fact 5: The Forbidden Forest is a reserve for the creatures inhabiting it. But the third-floor corridor is no place for a Cerberus._

_Fact 6: There was a troll loose in Hogwarts._

_Fact 7: The troll couldn't possibly have wandered in by itself._

_Fact 8: Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards since Merlin._

_Conclusion 1: The Cerberus has been placed there intentionally._

_Conclusion 2: Someone (not Hadria Potter) brought the troll into Hogwarts._

_Conclusion 3: Dumbledore needs or wants the Cerberus in Hogwarts for a reason._

_Possibility 1: Dumbledore needs or wants the troll in Hogwarts too, but the control over the troll was lost._

_Possibility 2: Dumbledore doesn't want a troll in Hogwarts and that's why someone brought the troll in—to hinder whatever Dumbledore is doing. (This is mutually exclusive with Possibility 1)._

_Possibility 3: Professor Quirrell brought the troll in to help Dumbledore and lost control of the troll even though he's the DADA Professor._

_Possibility 4: Four other staff members could be involved—Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, DADA Professor Quirrell, Gamekeeper Hagrid, and Caretaker Filch._

_Possibility 5: Hogwarts is in serious danger from outside sources, hence magical creatures are kept in the third-floor corridor as reserve protection. The danger is so serious that the combination of Hogwarts' wards and Dumbledore's magical abilities isn't enough._

_Possibility 6: Hogwarts has become a secondary Gringotts, and is using trolls and Cerberuses in place of dragons._

_Possibility 7: Dumbledore has gone mad and none of the teachers can stop him._

_Task 1: Find out about Cerberuses and trolls._

_Task 2: Look out for clues that Hogwarts is in serious danger._

_Task 3: Find out if there's any reason for a secondary Gringotts._

_Task 4: Look out for clues that Dumbledore is mentally ill and abusing his power over the teachers to keep them from hindering his mad plans._

_Task 5: With enough evidence, tell parents._

Apparently, Slytherins took threats to the school very seriously. (Though Hadria later realised she shouldn't be so surprised by that, considering how their Founder had left an ancient basilisk in the castle just to protect the school from potentially threatening Muggles). And suddenly, the entire House was playing some sort of detective game.

So every book in the library about magical creatures were borrowed, and the younger years were also reading Care of Magical Creatures textbooks. Some students opened their  _Hogwarts: A History_  for the first time, and others found history books about Gringotts. Letters were sent home asking about protective magic, ancient wards and the reason why the Wizarding World depended on Gringotts and the goblins to take care of their money. Every student also began watching the Professors with the attentiveness and determination of a paranoid Auror.

Of course, Hadria wasn't one of them.

Instead, she spent a good whole day wondering if she should lead her friends in the right direction by asking Hagrid certain questions that he would no doubt end up spilling secrets over, or leave them all to figure out the mystery themselves.

It  _was_  rather amusing seeing the less-subtle Slytherins act like stalkers. Even Neville noticed, and so did Hermione, once she got her head out of her latest conquest (a great big red book about the origins of spell-language), and the both of them had asked her, on two separate occasions, what she had done to her Housemates. (Why did everyone always assume anything strange was her fault?)

The pranks had also let up, to the mild confusion of everyone not in the know, because it was entertaining enough watching the Slytherins try their hand at being Sherlock, and Hadria's Slytherin buddies had persuaded her to get help from the Weasley twins. How could she possibly say no when they evidently had to fight against their very selves to not only ask for help from a  _Gryffindor_ , but ask for help from a pair of  _Weasleys_?

* * *

"So, you guys are experts at going around unnoticed and stalking people to prank them," Hadria said to them. It wasn't a question, and the Weasley twins exchanged a bemused look between them.

"You need our help," they concluded in sync, and she handed them her own list after whispering the password. Four identical eyebrows disappeared under flaming red hair when they heard it.

" _Bloo_ dy _hell!_ " said Fred, sounding very Ron-ish for a moment (it was the way he emphasized the words, Hadria thought), after the twins had read through the list.

"Is this what Slytherins do in their spare time?" George asked, sounding equal parts amused and bewildered.

"We know about the third-floor corridor, of course," Fred explained.

"But you don't see our House going up in arms," George finished.

Hadria snorted— _Ladies don't snort_ , imagination-Pansy scolded her— "We aren't going up in arms."

"Of course you aren't," George said dismissively. Fred nodded. "You're Slytherins. You lot prefer to—" Here, one of them waves the list. "—Engage in  _espionage_."

"Tell me again, George, why didn't we go to Slytherin?" Fred asked the other.

"Because you got us Sorted into Gryffindor," George retorted.

Hadria decided she had done enough and left them while they were debating if they could get re-Sorted. She grinned when she imagined telling Draco and Pansy about the Weasleys wanting to join Slytherin, though they might kick a fuss over the sharing of the list with a non-Slytherin first... but they _did_ tell her to get help from them. It would be their fault for not specifying how.

* * *

There was something going on with his Slytherins, and Severus would have to be blind not to see it. He  _was_  their Head-of-House, after all.

It started out with the whispering, which was basically the sign of a new piece of gossip. This was fairly innocuous for Slytherins, so Severus wasn't concerned. He figured he'd overhear about it soon enough.

Then he realised the gossip was not quite as simple as he thought it was—the older students never spoke about it when he was within earshot, and they knew how to tell when their Head-of-House was around, something they usually only learned after at least five years of experience in Slytherin, while the younger students were smart enough to just keep their mouths shut about it most of the time, only whispering when the seniors gave them the cue that he was too far to listen in, even with the aid of magic.

It was possible that it was something mildly illegal, such as the presence of that Jarvey in the boy's dormitories that no one had bothered to inform him about—that he knew about anyway because what kind of Slytherin Head-of-House would he be if he didn't? —but Severus decided he would watch them closely, just in case. Especially since many of them were the children of Death Eaters. And the entire House seemed to be in on it, except him.

Snakes. That was what his Slytherins were turning into. One by one, even those who probably only got into Slytherin because of their ambition instead of cunning or resourcefulness, learned from those who were better at it.

The low quiet hissing amongst themselves. The watchful unblinking stares, fixed upon whatever caught their attention for long minutes. Calculating glances with quick and discreet shifting of the head and body. No wasted movements that would produce unnecessary visual or audible distractions that would disturb their vigilance.

Because that was what it was, wasn't it? Vigilance— _the action or state of keeping careful watch for possible danger or difficulties._

Flint was scowling more than usual, but he had stopped yelling even during Quidditch practices, choosing instead to watch everyone with the eyes of a predator. Warrington seemed to take up less space than usual, and it wasn't a sign of weakness, no, it was the sign of efficiency. Even Crabbe and Goyle had followed the example of the other Slytherins in attempting to blend into the background, as odd as that sounded (and it didn't always worked, but they did try).

It was so peculiar that Severus was drawn almost instinctively to the newest additions of the unofficial Slytherin Court. They were, unsurprisingly, the only ones who didn't behave much differently. After all, they were  _always_  whispering amongst themselves and they were  _always_  exercising the Constant Vigilance that being around Hadria required.

Draco and Parkinson only looked more warily expectant than usual, and Severus had come to associate this look with the explosion of a new prank. Of course, he had no evidence that those brats were behind any of them, but ever since he'd caught Potter in an empty corridor with the Weasley twins, he had been quite certain of it.

Zabini was the one who was perpetually amused when he wasn't bored. These seemed to be the only two states of mind that he could exist in—listless Garfield or smirking Cheshire. And for the past few days, he seemed to be content to let that disconcerting grin curl on his face like a lazy snake in the sun.

Potter herself was the oddest of them all, no matter when and where, and Severus realised that it was because she didn't behave like a Slytherin. It wasn't that she displayed un-Slytherin-like behaviour, because Severus had come to notice that, horror of all horrors, she might actually be a Slytherin, but it was more of a placement of identity—she didn't behave like she was one of them.

Oh, Potter had her clique of Draco, Parkinson and Zabini, (with Crabbe and Goyle trailing them like shadows), though she often drifted towards the other Houses to hang out with that Granger girl and the Longbottom boy.

This, by itself, wasn't strange, because he knew of other Slytherins who had study groups with Ravenclaws and to a lesser extent, Hufflepuffs. What was strange was the way she acted around the other Slytherins, and while Severus didn't want to spend his free time observing that blasted girl, he couldn't help it.

Potter was like… an Slytherin alumna, come back to spend time with her juniors. She wasn't a part of them, always seemed apart from them, yet there was no doubt she should be one of them.

When the Slytherins watched everyone else with suspicion—and Severus still didn't know why—she was the one watching  _them_  with a combination of concern and amusement. When they were whispering amongst themselves, she would nod at the right moments, while make funny faces to herself as she scribbled down stuff into a book.

Then there was once when he spotted two Slytherins—Davis and Bulstrode—stalking Quirrell of all people, and before he could do something about it, because they really shouldn't be stalking that particular Professor, two hands appeared from the darkness of a hidden alcove and pulled them in.

"This is getting ridiculous," he heard Potter's voice say as he approached, more quietly than usual, for he was finally going to hear something that might clue him into the secret.

"He was  _limping_ , Potter," Bulstrode hissed in reply.

"And there was blood at the hems of his robes," Davis added.

There was a huff which Severus thought must have come from Potter, though he didn't think he had ever seen her being exasperated before.

"So you decided it was a brilliant idea to stalk him, a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor who may or may not have brought a troll into the school."

"Which he must have lost control of, so he can't be very competent. Hell, Potter, we know from his classes that he's not going to be very scary even if he did catch us."

"Now Dumbledore, on the other hand… If he finds out we're on to him…"

" _Bloody hell_."

"Well, we don't see you doing anything about it. Aren't you worried at all?"

A choked laugh. "And you guys call me the Gryffindor. Well, if you must know, I've outsourced my work."

"Oh."

"The Weasley twins?"

Severus had heard enough.

He didn't know whether to laugh or curse at the idea that his Slytherins had formulated some conspiracy theory involving Dumbledore being a dangerous mastermind, Quirrell a useless minion, and the troll the clue to a greater plot, and were now acting on it.

The funny thing was they were right in a way. Yet they were so wrong. And Severus himself wasn't entirely sure what was going on either, not with Dumbledore, and not with his Slytherins.

* * *

Then there was that incident at the first Quidditch match of the year.

It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, which usually meant that the Slytherins would wear their scarves and chant insults in their seats, while the Gryffindors would shout cheers and wave banners. But this time, Severus could see one lone Slytherin looking very much like a jester, wearing a red-green-gold-and-silver spangled outfit that he was sure he'd never seen sold in any robe shop before (he couldn't imagine any self-respectable establishment selling such an atrocity), her face painted silver, which, coupled with her hair dyed a flaming red like the Weasleys, made her emerald-green eyes stand out even more than before…

Her ridiculous Dumbledore-esque robes suddenly seemed so much more bearable to look at in comparison. Severus glanced away, and prayed she'd get those awful colours off her after the match.

Instead, he looked at his other Slytherins.

Draco wore what looked like a green-and-silver-painted creature—was that a Jarvey?—around his neck like a living scarf. Zabini and Parkinson also had green-and-silver face-paint but chose to leave their hair uncoloured. (Severus wasn't sure how Potter managed to convince the Slytherins to paint their faces because this was the first time he could ever remember his Slytherins putting on so much embellishments for a school match).

Longbottom and Granger sat on Potter's other side. Longbottom wore robes that flashed red and gold like a Phoenix, while Granger was the only normal and sensible looking one, for she had chosen to wear her usual school robes with a Ravenclaw scarf, forgoing any other ornamentation.

The match went well. That was to say, Slytherin was winning, and Severus could almost feel the satisfaction that was going to come when the Quidditch Cup finally sat in his office. Again. Minerva was going to be so disgruntled.

Except that apparently, he couldn't even let himself enjoy Slytherins' progress towards an inevitable victory without something coming up to interrupt the moment.

It happened with a literal bang, and everyone (who were all engrossed in the thrilling Quidditch match between the rival Houses) turned to see an explosion of fire and smoke erupt from one of the rows in the Quidditch stands. It wasn't just any part of the stands, but the one with Potter and company in it.

However, the explosion appeared harmless enough—nothing seemed to have caught fire despite the realistic-looking flames, just seats and barriers destroyed by the force of the explosion—and for a moment, Severus thought that it could just be an attention-seeking stunt by Potter. It was only for a moment, because a moment later, there was a colourful figure falling from the partially damaged stand.

Severus was reluctant to admit it, but in that next half-a-second, his heart stuttered. It was Potter who was falling, but the red hair and green eyes and her support for friends in a rival House screamed Lily. Lily who was already dead. Lily whom he had found lying in the pool of red that was her hair.

_(And she was falling too fast, gravity seemed more enthusiastic than usual, her brilliant colours would flatten, and all that would be left would be red red red)_

Everyone was screaming, several Professors, including himself, had their wands out, ' _Arresto Momentum_ ' on their lips, a few Quidditch players (Higgs, Pucey, the Weasley twins) were racing to catch the girl, Quidditch match abandoned, because who cared if Slytherin or Gryffindor won, if one of their own was falling?

But—

( _they weren't going to make it in time_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the reason why I'm cutting it short here is because this chapter was getting so long, I decided to just stop and post the rest as a separate chapter later. But no worries, the next chapter/continuation will be out in a week.
> 
> (I don't even know if this is considered a cliffie because it was partly unintentional, and we all know Hadria can't possibly die so early in the fic. But if you do think this is a cliffie, well this is the first time I'm writing it, so let me down gently (pun intended)?


	14. A Dramatic Play, Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadria causes trouble, Slytherins are paranoid, what's new?

**Chapter Fourteen:** **A Dramatic Play, Act 2**

* * *

_"Transit umbra, lux permanet." Shadow passes, light remains. - Unknown_

* * *

Gellert had a strange sense of foreboding before there was a girl spilling across the rug in the living room. He took in hair dyed a magical flaming colour, face painted a metallic silver, emerald green eyes, the spangled harlequin outfit, and leaped out of his armchair.

"Hydra?"

The girl rolled onto her back and grinned up at him, clearly unharmed and unfazed.

"Hey Gerwald, I missed you so I decided to come home early."

He ignored that comment because it was too sweet and damn it he missed her too, but he trusted in the safety of Hogwarts or at least he had tried to because no matter how much faith he had in Dumbledore's ability to keep his students safe, it was  _Dumbledore_ , and Hadria was out of sight and sometimes she would be so caught up in whatever shenanigans she was up to in school that she forgot to write home, not that he was actively waiting for her letter every week—

"Gerwald, your face is changing colour."

Gellert exhaled a breath he didn't realise he had been holding.

"Hadria, what happened?"

Said girl scrambled to her feet, dusted her robes— _where did she even get those atrocious things from?_ —and without any warning, launched herself at him.

"Oh, I almost forgot how much fun it was to do this," she said, and Gellert heaved a tired sigh as he caught her in his arms.

"Hadria Jamie Potter, what happened?"

The koala-like thing that was trying to climb up around him stopped squirming.

"Um," Hadria paused and looked sheepish. "But I swear Quidditch is safe!"

"What. Happened?"

Hadria coughed and wriggled again, wiping some of the silver paint onto his robes.

"We were just watching the Quidditch match, it was Slytherin vs Gryffindor—we were totally winning, by the way. I mean, Fred and George were wonderful Beaters, and the rest of the team were also pretty decent, but one of their Chasers was taken out by a Bludger to the head, and no offence, but their Seeker wasn't the best, I think he was a reserve player, and not to brag and sound like Draco but I could probably play better than him… Okay, I do sound like Draco. I blame him. His egoistic tendencies are rubbing off me. You know—"

" _Himmel, arsch und zwirn_!"

"Okay okay, um, therewasanexplosioninthestandsinthemiddleofthematchandthebarrier-gavewayandIfelloffbutitreallyfeltlikesomethingmighthavepulledmeoffbecauseIdon'trememberleaningthatmuchonthebarrier."

Then she took a quick breath, and immediately blurted, "Don't blame Quidditch."

Gellert resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Did you remember the spell?"

"Arresto Momentum? Yeah, I did, but the ground was rushing up way faster than I expected so I decided to play it safe and kill two birds with one stone."

The ex-Dark Lord had never felt the urge to strangle something, or someone—preferably one Albus Dumbledore—as much as he did in that moment. Of all the things he thought could happen to Hadria at Hogwarts—among which was the worry that she would burn down a tower or something—the girl just had to get herself targeted by someone who wanted her dead and no one had been quick enough to help her such that she had to resort to using the Portkey he had the foresight to give her.

But as much as he would love to storm Hogwarts right there and then, he also didn't want to show his face to Albus just yet. (Because he totally  _wasn't_  avoiding Dumbledore or the can of worms that he was very sure he didn't want Hadria to know yet).

So Gellert chose to send Hadria to her room—"But it's barely lunchtime!"—and settled himself in his study to pen a letter to Hogwarts' dear Headmaster. And in a fit of inspiration, he prepared himself to write a letter to Narcissa Malfoy as well.

* * *

Hadria snuck away from home that night, because she knew if she stayed any longer, Gellert was likely to keep her prisoner, and left a letter by her bedside telling Gellert not to worry, even though she knew he'd worry anyway.

When she got back to her room in Hogwarts, she was glad the dormitory was empty, because the last time the school saw her, she had been falling to her death. Returning on the back of a Grim wouldn't be a very good idea—though it might be funny, now that she thought about it.

Still, she didn't need to appear with a Grim to make a dramatic entrance. Just walking out of the girls' dorms and into the common room like nothing was wrong had been enough to stun the entire Slytherin House into silence. The Snakes were everywhere, some sitting, some standing—on the seats, by the fireplace, on the floor—and Professor Snape stood in front of the fireplace, the centre of attention until the moment she walked in.

Hadria coughed to cover a giggle, but her friends seemed to notice it anyway, because Draco now had his face in his hands, Pansy was patting his back, and Blaise himself was coughing into a fist.

"What did I miss?" she asked, because it felt like the right thing to say.

Except that it was apparently not the right thing to say because it made Snape blow up.

"What did you miss?  _What did you miss?!_  Why Potter, what you missed was a long speech by Professor Dumbledore about accidents happening at Quidditch matches, a school-wide manhunt and rumours circulating around the school about your death, all because you couldn't keep yourself from trouble for just one second!"

Hadria had the decency to look properly chastised. "Well, if it helps, it wasn't really my fault, and I'm sorry anyway?"

Professor Snape took a deep breath that had Hadria comparing him with Gellert for a moment.

"Where have you been?" he finally asked.

"Home," said Hadria. "Gerwald gave me a Portkey to activate in case of such an emergency."

This was greeted with silence. All the first years and some of the older years have heard of Gerwald (because of course everyone has heard of the Gerwald the Wonderful, the Great and Mighty, the Charming and Chivalrous and—you get the idea). Hadria wondered if she should feel insulted or pleased that this probably cemented both her perchance of getting into trouble and Gellert's wisdom gained from spending extended periods of time around her.

"And your guardian allowed you to return to Hogwarts?" Snape raised an eyebrow. He probably recalled Gellert's possessiveness of Hadria from their first meeting.

Hadria shuffled her feet and tried to give her most innocent expression (which was actually so innocent it always looked creepy). "He won't find out I've left the house until morning."

And Hadria got the distinctive feeling that Snape wanted to down an entire bottle of Firewhiskey right there and then. After all, he had seen, first-hand, Gellert upset about her disappearance before. She also suspected that his constipated expression might be due to him restraining himself from asking if they'll be getting a Bad Case of Protective Parent storming Hogwarts any time soon.

But he collected himself and turned to the other Slytherins, saying, "Now that our resident celebrity has been found, alive and unharmed, I see no reason to keep you up any longer. You're all dismissed."

Then he left the common room with a sweep of black robes. Presumably to get a Calming Draught and sleep the day's stress and troubles away.

Hadria dropped herself onto the arm of the chair that Draco was lounging in as the other Slytherins cast them curious looks but oblingingly retreated back to their dorms. One of them gave Pansy a Significant Look which Hadria took to mean that any important information in their subsequent conversation was going to be made known to at least half the House by morning.

"So, did anyone win the match?"

Blaise laughed. "We did." This apparently shook Draco from whatever conflicted trance he was having.

"The snitch flew right past Higgs on his way to catch you," he explained excitedly. "Of course, you had disappeared then, and he was the fastest to react. Did a sharp turn upon realising you were gone, and caught the snitch in the next second."

"You really gave the school a scare, you know," said Pansy, though she seemed more proud than disapproving. "We would've written to our parents too, if Professor Snape hadn't warned us not to do anything without knowing the full picture yet. Imagine the scandal, though, if it had gotten out! Girl-Who-Lived Falls to Her Death at Hogwarts, the 'Safest' Place in the Wizarding World!"

They shared grins as they pictured the headlines in the Daily Prophet and the outrage it would've caused. Then there a sudden sombre hush.

"Hey, do you think…?" Pansy began.

"He couldn't have. He may be mad, but surely not that mad," Draco said, though he sounded uncertain.

Hadria blinked. "Are we actually discussing if Dumbledore just tried to kill me?"

"It seems unlikely," admitted Pansy. "But who else could it be? He could have caught onto our attempts to expose his nefarious plans, but then… Why would he target  _you_?"

"Exactly! Hadria's the Girl-Who-Lived!" Draco exclaimed.

Blaise crossed his legs and uncrossed his arms to lean forward. "Actually, there could be many reasons why Dumbledore would target Hadria. She may be the Girl-Who-Lived, but she's evidently not his poster child. She left the guardians he had appointed for her to live with a probably dangerous foreign wizard. She got Sorted into Slytherin and doesn't get ostracised despite acting like a Lion or Badger half the time. She hangs out with  _us_. And he's got to know that she's behind half the pranks in this school even though she's only a first-year, and the Professors like her. For all he knows, she could secretly be a Dark Lady in the making, hiding under the cover of an innocent Slytherin."

Hadria wondered if it was too late to tell them they've got it all wrong. Of course, she wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore was actually suspicious of her, but she doubted he'd actually make a direct attempt on her life. After all, he never killed Gellert when he could, and she didn't think he ever tried to kill Riddle either.

* * *

Morning came with all the drama Hadria expected and more.

When she sat back at the breakfast table, nibbling on a piece of toast lathered with treacle marmalade and topped with sliced sausages (Pansy was too busy staring at the owls to reprimand her choice of food combination) and reflected about her past life, she felt an immense satisfaction with her life decisions. For one, having Gellert as a guardian was fantastic. For another, being a Slytherin was hilarious.

Combine the two?

Howlers. Dozens of them, red and fluttering, delivering words sharp and cold like flying knives. There was one from Narcissa who did not howl, but her wintry voice was crisp and clear for the entire Hall to hear. There was one from Pansy's mother, and Hadria could see where Pansy got her tongue from. There was also one from Lady Zabini, much to Blaise's surprise. And there was even one from Mrs Weasley, who was probably the only one who howled in her Howler.

("—DISAPPOINTED IN YOU! LETTING A STUDENT FALL TO THEIR DEATH ON YOUR WATCH! QUIDDITCH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SAFE IN HOGWARTS! HADRIA COULD HAVE DIED! HOW COULD NONE OF YOU REACT IN TIME TO CATCH HER?! HOW WERE THE QUIDDITCH PLAYERS FASTER THAN YOUR STAFF?!—")

Hadria looked across the Hall and saw the twins clapping each other on the backs, while Percy looked grim-faced, and Ron was gaping like someone had just told him the Chudley Cannons had disbanded.

("—LETTER LAST NIGHT, AND I WOULDN'T HAVE BELIEVED THEM—")

"What's going on?" Draco demanded when he finally joined them at the table with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him, a few strands of ferret fur still stuck to his usually immaculate robes.

"Dumbledore's got Howlers," Hadria cackled, causing several Slytherins to turn and stare.

("—RECEIVED A LETTER WITH THE SAME MESSAGE FROM PERCY, AND I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY CHILDREN! WHAT IF IT HAD BEEN RON? WHAT IF IT HAD BEEN FRED OR GEORGE OR PERCY?! HOW DO I KNOW MY DEAR GINNY WON'T HAVE A NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE IN YOUR SCHOOL NEXT YEAR?!—")

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," Draco muttered. Louder, he said, "Severus gave us strict instructions not to write to our parents. How did this happen?"

It was Pucey who was the first to draw the right conclusion.

"None of us did. But one of us didn't have to," he said wonderingly, as realisation dawned on him. "This. This must be the work of Potter's guardian whom we've all been told we do not want to piss off."

More letters, less Howlers now, were still being delivered by the host of owls. Many, Hadria suspected were from the parents of the children in the other Houses.

"Mrs Weasley's Howler is the combined effort of Prefect Weasley and the twins," was all Hadria said, still casually helping herself to more breakfast.

A few Slytherins shuddered, the shrill voice of Mrs Weasley still ringing in their ears.

"Something feels wrong here, though," Blaise commented. He didn't seem particularly worried, but he did appear somewhat puzzled.

"It's Gerwald," Hadria chuckled. "He has a way with words… and ladies."

Blaise stared, and his face twisted into something funny. "I don't know how powerful your guardian really is, but as a… friend, I feel obliged to point out that your guardian would be advised not to bite off more than he can chew."

There were a few raised eyebrows at this, and Hadria spluttered into her drink. Pansy patted the other Slytherin girl on her back.

"What Blaise meant to say is, he's mother's the Black Widow and for your sake, it would be best if your guardian never tried to court her."

"B-but—" Hadria found herself spluttering. "Gerwald may be a real charmer but I don't think he's actually looking to…  _court_  anyone!"

Students all around her gave her sympathetic looks which she did not understand.

"Hadria dear, your guardian… Is he young, good-looking and single?" Pansy said.

Finally, Hadria realised where they were going with this. And introduced her head to the table with a loud thunk, alarming several other Slytherins. Forget it, she was not going to have this conversation with them.

It was  _Gellert_ , for Merlin's sake! There were so many problems with Gellert being Gellert that Hadria wasn't sure if Gellert would ever get a partner, and that was when one didn't take into account the whole being the unknowing guardian of a time-travelling Master of Death issue.

* * *

The Howlers in the morning were all the students talked about for the rest of the day. The next most popular and also related topic was Hadria's fall. One theory was that a Slytherin had enough of her and had pushed her off, while another theory was that she had fallen off herself to get attention and had Apparated away just in time. The craziest theory was that the entire thing was all a shared hallucination, while another crazy theory involved her actually dying but coming back from the dead to haunt Dumbledore with Howlers. There were actually quite a few of these Hadria-actually-died theories.

"Now they're saying you're not actually here, and that our brains have all been modified to believe you're here with us. There's a rumour that the Ministry have been experimenting on mind control in the Department of Mysteries," Pansy said, when she returned from a toilet break. It appeared that half the time she went to the girl's bathroom, she was actually scouting for gossip. Hadria herself had stopped quite a couple of times outside the restroom door and heard other girls chatter about all sorts of stuff when they thought there was no one else around to hear.

"Perhaps we're all traumatised by the incident, so the Ministry wouldn't even need to modify our brains," said Blaise, enthusiastically. "Our minds couldn't cope, so now we're hallucinating your continued existence."

Then there was a shriek, as Tracey began to hitch up her school robes and scrambled onto her desk, knocking over an ink pot and her caged white mouse in the process. There was a white shape darting like an eel between the legs of the tables and chairs.

Draco let loose a few choice cruse words Hadria was sure would've gotten him a mouthful of soap if Narcissa had heard him.

"Is that your Jarvey?" Pansy asked, watching the chaos unfold with wary fascination.

Hadria didn't know if she should laugh or sigh. Instead of doing either, she decided to do something before her pet decided to reveal its Jarvey-speaking-abilities. A second and a flash of light later, there was a white tissue box on the ground in place of a furred creature.

Professor McGonagall took one look at the box and turned to survey the class.

"Whose ferret was that?"

Hadria glanced over at Draco who had his face in his hands and was groaning audibly. Then she raised a hand.

"Technically, it's mine. I lent it to Draco at the start of the term."

The Professor pursed her lips, then said, "Five points for a transfiguration well-done. Now, Mr Malfoy, Ms Potter, please come with me."

* * *

"Are we going to get expelled? We're going to be expelled, aren't we? My father won't allow it… He can't! And this is all your fault, Potter. Why did you have to bring that bloody creature to school? Why couldn't—"

Hadria yawned.

"Hadria Potter," Draco gritted out. The girl merely waved a hand dismissively.

"Chill, Draco. We're not getting expelled and your father won't have to pull any strings."

"How would you know?" Draco demanded. "We're not his favoured Gryffindors, we're the total opposite!" Ahead of them, Professor McGonagall was pretending not to hear every single thing they were saying.

But Hadria couldn't tell him she'd crashed a flying car into the Whomping Willow before and hadn't gotten expelled for that. She couldn't tell him about all the other times she had broken so many school rules she deserved half of Snape's scorn for her.

So, Hadria said, "What do you think would've happened if you had gotten caught smuggling in a racing broom instead?" Then realised she shouldn't have known about that either, because in this timeline, she had never met the blonde boy before school, in Madam Malkin's shop.

"How did you know I—Never mind," Draco huffed. "Well, I wouldn't have gotten caught!"

"Right," Hadria said, shaking her head, amused, remembering the time he'd gotten caught breaking curfew when he had been trying to get  _them_  (the old trio) caught with the dragon. Speaking of Norbert—or rather, Norberta—when was she due to appear? Because that was also around the time when Quirrellmort began unicorn-vampirism, and had that been before or after Christmas? Because Christmas was when the Mirror would make its first appearance, and—

"What if McGonagall's an accomplice?" Draco suddenly hissed into Hadria's ear. She shot the Professor an alarmed look, wondering how sharp her hearing was outside her feline form, before turning to Draco and whispering even softer.

"Please don't tell me you think we're being led to the Headmaster's office to be murdered?"

"Or Imperiused," Draco added, nodding fearfully. Hadria almost gaped at him. Had they all been that naïve as eleven-year-olds? Then she realised that the answer was yes. Hadn't the old trio automatically assumed that Snape had been after the Stone and had been the one who attempted to kill Harriet by jinxing her broom, simply because he was suspicious and unlikable?

"He's the Headmaster!" Hadria hissed back.

"Precisely!" Draco snapped and the raven-haired girl groaned. "I bet they were just waiting for an excuse and your blasted Snag was it!"

"Why didn't you leave him in the dorm as usual?"

"I did! He sneaked into my book bag after!"

Hadria sighed.

"Okay, how about this: If we get the tiniest inkling that the Headmaster is about to harm us in any way, you'll grab hold of me and I'll use my Portkey to get us to Gerwald and we can transfer to Durmstrang or something?"

Draco stared at her, then seemed to consider it. "Maybe we should just use your Portkey now and be done with it."

Hadria had never thought she would feel so frustrated in her life since her rebirth eleven years ago. "You're being bloody paranoid."

"I'm a Slytherin! It's called self-preservation!"

"We're here."

Draco gasped, while Hadria took in the gargoyle then took in Professor McGonagall's face. Hadria couldn't tell if the Deputy Headmistress had everything they had been whispering about, but if she had, she wasn't showing it.

"This is it," whined Draco, and Hadria elbowed him.

"Don't be melodramatic."

* * *

They stood in front of Professor Dumbledore like a pair of guilty school children. In fact, they  _were_  a pair of guilty school children. Well, Draco was more skittish than guilty, and looked like he might start doing a Quirrell impression anytime soon, while Hadria couldn't quite manage the guilt (she found the whole thing rather hilarious, to be honest) and had settled for just being reluctantly apologetic about the whole thing. Professor McGonagall had just finished telling the Headmaster what had occurred in the Transfiguration classroom, and Dumbledore was now gazing at them genially from behind half-moon spectacles. Snag the tissue box was now lying innocently on the table that was cluttered with a great many other trinkets.

"Well, I must say, my dear Hadria, you've managed to cause quite a stir in the school since your first week here," he finally said, a twinkle in his eye and an amused smile expressed in every wrinkle of his face. "I don't think we've had such excitement in the school since the days of the Marauders."

Hadria snuck a glance at Professor McGonagall who looked like a disgruntled cat. Draco, on the other hand, had quit his fidgeting and was trying his best to mimic his father's too-Pureblood-to-feel-stressed facade.

"Who are the Marauders?" Hadria asked, because those were her lines in this strange little play she now found herself a part of. And Dumbledore, who had to have been expecting that question since he dropped the name so casually, smiled even wider.

"They were a group of Gryffindors—" ("Troublemakers," McGonagall corrected none too softly.) "Who, like you, were looking to liven up their school days with a bit of fun. They were the precursors of the Weasley twins, though I believe their legacy was not fully manifested until your arrival in Hogwarts."

Hadria made a funny face then adopted a sheepishly hopeful look.. "I'm flattered, I think?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Your father was one of the Marauders. I believe he would've been proud of all the chaos you've brought to this school in your wake. He was also a remarkable Transfiguration student." He picked up the tissue box and gave it to her. "Are you able to reverse the transformation?"

Hadria examined the tissue box she had transfigured. It was almost perfectly white, marred only by two pairs of faint paw prints on the underside. There was a neat stack of tissue paper in it. The Slytherin girl drew her wand and a quick glance told her that everyone in the office, even the Phoenix in the corner which she had yet to ask about, was watching her. Hadria grinned.

And the tissue box came to life.

"Never again!" It declared, shaking out the white from its fur like a dog covered in flour, until an overgrown ferret with fur the colour of blended mocha took its place on the Headmaster's desk.

"A Jarvey?!" McGonagall looked like she just came face to face with Lee's tarantula. There was a funny mixture of shock, exasperation and horror on her face. And not the kind of horror one might expect of a girl like Lavender Brown, but the kind of horror that came with being a Professor of more than one generation of pranksters.

"Obvious," Snag snorted, and Professor McGonagall shot him a glare so fierce it silenced him... temporarily. It was still quite a sight to see.

"Oh my, that is one interesting pet you have, Hadria," Dumbledore said, good-naturedly. "Wherever did you find him from? I don't expect Magical Menagerie to sell such a species. Not much demand for them, though I can't imagine why."

"I got him in Greece," Hadria replied truthfully. "The storekeeper gave him to me for free."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. Exaggeratedly. Indeed, it was like a play.

"I must ask, how did you get Mr Malfoy to keep him for you?"

Draco, who had been getting comfortable with the attention away from him, now straightened comically (considering how his natural posture was already pretty straight) like a soldier at a parade. He flushed and gave Hadria a Look.

"We had a deal," she said proudly, ignoring the Look, because she had no idea what it meant. It was probably just Draco still miffed at her for getting them into this situation. "If I made it into Slytherin, Draco would keep the Jarvey for me, since I already had Holly as a pet and we're not exactly allowed two pets. So the Hat was having trouble Sorting me, and I decided to help it along by giving it an incentive to Sort me into Slytherin by telling him about the deal and since the Hat did want to see a Malfoy with a Jarvey, here we are!"

Draco was now giving her another Look and this one was clearly one of disbelief. He glanced at the Professors, then leaned in to hiss softly, "You just told him  _everything_!"

Hadria shrugged. "He's Professor Dumbledore." This got her another look of horrified disbelief.

She did, in fact, know what his problem was. But she wasn't going to tell him that while keeping some information to oneself was a good (and Slytherin) thing to do most of the time, in this case, she did have a motive to give the Headmaster her full honesty.

Snag, on the other hand, had regained his voice, "Stupid. Idiotic. Dull. Brainless. Vapid. Moronic. Obtuse. Dolt—"

A flash of light later and on the table was a funny coloured jelly-bean (dirty brown and off-white-striped ) that wouldn't look out of place in a Bertie Bott's box. Draco was blinking rapidly at the display, and Hadria couldn't decide if she imagined the brief look of satisfaction that flitted across the face of their Transfiguration Professor.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore continued to smile easily, as if everything that was going on in his office was a daily occurrence.

"Multiple pets are still not allowed, Miss Potter," said Professor McGonagall, bringing them back on track.

"Oh, I'm sure we can make an exception—"

"Favouritism is also not allowed for a Headmaster, Albus." The interruption wasn't as stern, more exasperated, and it sounded like something she had said way too many times to Dumbledore before.

The Professors turned back to the students, and found Hadria looking at them with a slight frown, while Draco simply had a pale expressionless face.

"Can I please keep Snag? Pretty please?" said Hadria, shifting her weight from foot to foot anxiously. "I'm afraid my guardian might throw him out if we have to keep him at home. They don't get along much."

"Well," Dumbledore began, and turned to look at McGonagall expectantly, who huffed and said, "If you wish to keep the Jarvey, I expect you to ensure that it will cause no more trouble to the staff and students here. I will not have it disrupt my class again. However, you will have to send your owl home, and she will only be allowed in the school to deliver mail, as per the school rules."

Hadria cheered enthusiastically and launched herself at the senior witch. "Thank you so much, Professor! I promise to keep Snag in line!"

Dumbledore beamed. "Well, now that that's settled, Draco, you may leave for lunch. Fear not, this incident will not be held against you, and you will not have to deal with Hadria's Jarvey much longer, given that she is now allowed to look after him herself."

Draco looked at Hadria and the jelly-bean skeptically, because a deal was a deal, and it didn't matter if the Slytherin girl had been given the permission to keep Snag. After all, Hadria could have easily left Holly with her guardian to solve the problem of too many pets and kept the Jarvey with her. It wasn't like the thought had never crossed her mind, and all three of them (including the Jarvey who was not actually capable of conscious thought just then, but would have counted if he was) knew that.

But the Malfoy scion had been dismissed, while Hadria clearly hadn't been, so he gave her one last look and left, wondering what the Headmaster could be keeping her back for. If he didn't see her again by the end of lunch, he was just going to have to rope in as many Slytherins as possible to see Professor Snape and hope his godfather wasn't in league with the Headmaster as well.

When Draco had left, Dumbledore waved his wand and a seat trotted over to Hadria who took it as an invitation to sit down. Their meeting had been going well so far, and she hoped it would also end well. If not, well, she would have to make it end well.

"What's this about, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked when Hadria had settled comfortably in her seat.

"Why, her guardian, of course," said Dumbledore in reply.

"My guardian?" Hadria echoed. Oh, she had expected this conversation to come up sooner or later, and it seemed that the time was then.

Dumbledore nodded. "Just a concern a Headmaster has for his student, you see. I'm assuming he was the one who brought you to Greece? What's he like? Are you happy with him? Because I must admit, I almost panicked when I paid your Aunt Petunia a visit, and she told me a young wizard had taken you away."

Hadria grimaced internally, and wondered if he had expected her to be happy with the Dursleys, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she grabbed his bait, and grinned. He expected a fish—she'd give him a whale… which was  _not_  a fish, but, you get the idea.

* * *

Hadria left the office beaming, jelly-bean in her pocket (Professor McGonagall had decided to give her the challenge of turning it back herself, though Hadria suspected she might have simply wanted the Jarvey to suffer some Transfiguration mishap).

She felt like patting herself on the back. After all, aside from the jelly-bean Jarvey (which didn't really count as a set-back nor did it put any bit of a damper on anything) she had successfully sold the idea of being a playful Chimera (part-Lion, part-Badger, part-Snake, part-Eagle) with the help of the Sorting Hat (who piped in from time to time to back her up) to Dumbledore, and convinced him that 'Gerwald' keeping her had originally been an accident, and the wizard been enamoured by her and adopted her from the Dursleys, after which they'd traveled the world together, and if he must, he could ask Snape for his opinion, because they'd met him at the Potions Convention before school started.

" _And sorry for the Howlers, sir, I hope they didn't cause you too much trouble. I don't get why everyone was so worked up over it. I mean, I'm sure the Quidditch thing was just an accident and it's said that Hogwarts is the safest place in the Wizarding World aside from Gringotts and you're here, aren't you? Perhaps this whole thing could've been avoided if I hadn't activated my Portkey and waited for one of you Professors or the Quidditch team members to catch me, but I had been panicking then so please excuse me for that. Terribly sorry, though."_

And Dumbledore assured her that it was fine, he was glad she was happy, she's a brilliant child, keep up the good work, she's welcome to visit him anytime for anything, and he'd love to meet her guardian for tea someday, just to thank him personally for taking wonderful care of Hadria and raising her right, because the Headmaster has met many guardians before—the Weasleys, the Bones, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys, the Notts, a good number of Muggle parents, and even her own parents, long ago—but he had yet to meet her guardian.

Through it all, Hadria was proud of herself for not telling a single lie either. Sure, she tweaked some things a little bit, left out the fact that Gellert had essentially kidnapped her at first, and had totally not been enamoured by her straightaway, and that he wasn't just upset about the danger but held some sort of grudge against the Headmaster (so he was more likely to hex him than to sit down with him for a cup of tea), but what harm was there in a white lie or two for a good story-telling?

Then her good mood faltered in the face of a sour-faced Severus Snape who was glaring at her, arms crossed, as if everything was her fault (which, she admitted, usually was, but not this time, not really). And with him were a… group—horde? Throng? Army? –of Slytherins. She could even see some of the older years and a prefect with their wands out.

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're alive!" exclaimed Draco.

* * *

In the late evening of a fine but chilly November day, Severus Snape, who was feeling distinctively  _not_  fine, rubbed his temple and took a sip from a Calming Draught. He wondered if he should get something stronger, like a good bottle of elf-made wine.

The Potions Master sighed, and inspected the finished letter. It had been difficult, writing it. He did not typically send letters to the guardians of his students—he did not typically need to—but even then, if it had been any other student, he would not have much of a problem penning the appropriate report.

To most guardians, he would not hesitate to inform them precisely what he thought of their children. To Lords and Ladies, he would not hesitate to  _subtly_  inform them precisely what he thought of their children (any Lord or Lady would be able to read between the lines, anyway). But to his best knowledge, Gerwald Grinsen was not a Lord. In fact, he (and the rest of the Slytherin House) was pretty sure Grinsen was not a Wizarding last name. Yet, everyone with half a brain knew that this Gerwald of Hadria's was not someone to cross. Not after the Howler incident. It wasn't common knowledge, but it wasn't exactly a well-kept secret either, that said incident had been ignited by this man.

And Severus had the fortune of meeting this man face-to-face before. The encounter had left him slightly uncomfortable because there was just  _something_  about that man...

So, it had left him with the dilemma of how best to inform said man—who was evidently rather possessive and protective of Hadria—about his terrible ward.

_Mister Gerwald Grinsen,_

_I believe we have been met before, at the Potions Convention in August, so I shall spare the introductions and get straight down to business._

_I had hope that should I ever need to write to you, it would be under more favourable circumstances, but I regret to say that this letter has been penned to inform you about the trouble your ward has gotten herself into._

_Miss Potter has been causing havoc since stepping into Hogwarts, and I could list here all the offences she has committed should you be interested, but this current problem is more dangerous than the rest. I believe that you, as her guardian, should be notified about the dangers your ward is selectively oblivious to, so that you could take measures to ensure that she reign in her Gryffindor tendencies and exercise some self-preservation that she is sorely lacking in._

_There is something brewing in the school, of which I am not as privy to as I would like, so I cannot tell you much about it. However, the Headmaster has plans which I have been assured would not endanger the students should they follow the typical school rules and explicit instructions given to them. Unfortunately, your ward has chosen to ignore these rules and instructions, and has dragged the whole Slytherin House with her. I am doing my best to contain the situation on my side, as their Head-of-House, but it would help if you were to shake some sense into your ward before she gets herself killed._

_Yours Respectfully,_

_Severus Snape_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting a new tumblr blog just for strange science, weird shit and magic, harry potter things and fanfiction: https://nevertickleasleepinghydra.tumblr.com/ Check it out if you'd like.


	15. Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Yuletide at last and as always, there are new developments because winter breaks are never boring with Hadria.
> 
> OR
> 
> Hadria receives many useful gifts and a particularly interesting one.  
> Gellert receives a strange gift that he will come to dislike (though he does not know it yet)  
> Pansy makes a discovery.  
> The Weasley twins make a discovery of another kind.

Chapter Fourteen: Yule

* * *

_"Sunt pueri pueri pueri puerilia tractant." Children are children and children do childish things. - Unknown_

* * *

Gellert and two more letters:

* * *

_Professor Severus Tobias Snape,_

_May I call you Severus? Severus, you are free to exercise any "reign in her Gryffindor tendencies" to your heart's content. What you have before you is the sum total of my accomplishments at doing the same and I look forward to the results of your efforts._

_Please remind Hadria that she is only allowed one new pet every eighteen months and is in no way allowed to obtain one from another dimension /via any method, regardless of whether it is illegal or not/. Likewise, be sure that she is aware of any Hogwarts rulings on the subject of befriending eldritch horrors, class four-to-five creatures, magical folk of dubious origin, and any being of similar capacity for death or grievous injury._

_I bid you the best of luck._

_Sincerely,_

_Gerwald Grinsen_

P.S. Also remind her that she is not allowed to breed ANYTHING and is still banned from performing any ritual of any sort without my permission until she is seventeen.

/P.P.S. Could you also remind her that it usually best to follow the spirit of the law instead of finding loopholes in rules that are put in place for her safety? Thank you. /

* * *

**(The above letter was composed by a reader of the Danse Macabre fic posted on AO3, who wrote this letter in a comment. The only parts written by me are enclosed by a / on either side, everything else is the genius of EDelta88. If you enjoyed reading it, which I know I did, you have them to thank. The letter below also contains a suggestion from the same reader, that is to ban/ground Hadria as a result of something that has happened.)**

* * *

_Hadria Jamie Potter,_

_Did you know that the Professor you hold with such reverence just sent me a letter last night? I seem to recall that in my previous letter that, and I shall quote myself word-for-word, "I hope not to receive any letter from your Professors or esteemed Headmaster any time this year."_

_It has not even been half a school year yet and your Professor Snape has most kindly offered to send me a list of the infractions you have committed during your school term. Please do not add to that list. May I also add that you will be grounded for the rest of your winter break after the Malfoy's Yule celebration. Next time you do something you're not actually allowed to do, make sure you are able to avoid the suspicion of your Professors._

_I have also been informed that there is something going on in your school, planned by your Headmaster. I'm aware that you must have some suspicion of this sort by now, if you are this fascinated by that forbidden corridor, so I'm just going to say that you should not be poking your nose into whatever funny business he is up to. From the sound of it, his plans are dangerous and honestly should not be carried out in a school full of children. But then he may have gone senile with his age. In any case, please be careful. I expect you to return for your winter break with your mind, soul, and body all in one piece._

_Stay safe,_

_Gerwald_

* * *

The year turned fast and cold, and soon, there was a list to be filled by those who were going to stay in the castle for the holidays. Hadria had no need to put her name in this time around, but felt the temptation to do so, all the same, if only to find out how Gellert would react if he found out she wasn't returning home for the winter break.

"You're incorrigible," said Draco, when she told him as such. "Father would have a fit if I ever pulled something like that."

All of her friends were returning home that year, with the exception of the Weasley twins, who promised to keep an eye out in school while they were gone.

"Does anyone want to go shopping with me before the solstice?" Pansy asked during the train ride back to King's Cross Station. Their compartment was solely occupied by Slytherins.

"I've already Owl-ordered all the gifts," Draco drawled. "You mean to say you haven't?"

"Of course I have," Pansy huffed. "It's not gifts I'm shopping for. It's the robes!"

Hadria, on the other hand, had not bought anything for anyone yet, and was now internally panicking because she had never gotten any gifts for Slytherins before…

"Hadria?"

"Me?"

"I didn't realise we had another Hadria sitting in this compartment," Pansy said dryly. "Well, have you gotten your outfit for the Yule celebration yet?"

Unlike her previous life, Hadria now had at least seven different sets of dress robes, four of which she was sure she could wear to the Malfoy's.

"I've got one," she said, which didn't seem like a satisfactory answer because Pansy crossed her arms and frowned. "I don't trust you. Perhaps you should show me all your dress robes for me to review and we'll see if you need new ones."

"Wait, you're coming?" Draco interrupted. "Who invited you?"

Pansy glared at him, Blaise looked amused (which was no surprise) while his two minions looked at each other uncomfortably, for even they weren't  _that_  stupid.

"That was absolutely terrible, Draco. My mother would have my tongue if I ever said something of that sort!"

"You've turned into a Gryffindor," said Blaise, smirking. "Worse, you've become as bad as that Weasel."

Hadria, who was absolutely aware of the whats, whys, and hows now, decided to rub it in by giving Draco the face she often used on Gellert. It worked on the former Dark Lord, and it was three times as effective on the young Slytherin.

Draco, who had flushed a comical shade of pink at his housemates' rebuke, turned and saw Hadria blinking at him with unnaturally wide green eyes. Her usually expressive face was blank. When she spoke, her voice was like the glinting of light across ice.

"Your mother did say you might forget, but… you mean to say you  _don't_  want me there at all?"

Pansy's eyebrows shot up while Blaise's grin only got wider, though Draco didn't see it. He was far too busy trying to figure out what the hell that face meant because he had never seen it on Hadria before and how the hell was he going to get out of the grave he had dug for himself.

When there was no answer forthcoming, Hadria stood up.

"I'm going to find Hermione," she said, and with a silent wave of her wand, the compartment door slid open for her and she swept out, luggage floating behind her.

Just as the sliding door slammed shut behind her, she heard Draco swear like she's never heard a Pureblood swear before. Satisfied, she went to join her non-Slytherin friends who were sharing a compartment with Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott.

* * *

"So, you've finally left the nest of snakes," Terry commented when she entered.

Hadria sat down in a flounce. Her trunk shot up to join the others on the racks above.

"Pansy is scary when it comes to clothes," she lamented dramatically. "I had to escape before she could pry my address from my cold dead body, lest she turn up at my doorstep demanding to see my wardrobe."

Hannah perked up. "You're attending the Malfoy's ball too? At last, I'll have company who isn't Slytherin."

"Hadria's Slytherin," Hermione pointed out.

"She's about as Slytherin as the Weasley twins," said Hannah dismissively.

"Do the Malfoys hold one every year?" Hadria asked, curious. She had never really heard of this celebration in her previous life, probably because no one in her circle ever mentioned it, and by the time they grew up, the Malfoy family certainly wasn't in any condition to hold any parties.

"There's only ever one Yule celebration each year," Neville spoke up from where he was cuddling what appeared to be a pot of baby Devils' Snare. "It used to be hosted by the Blacks, because they were the oldest Pureblood surviving family in Wizarding Britain, but well, we all know what happened to them and since Lady Malfoy was the only Black left capable of hosting a ball, it got passed on to the Malfoy family."

It went unsaid that while the Ollivander family was likely to be just as old or older, well, the entire family line was rumoured to be all recluses who spent more time talking to their creations than to each other. Meanwhile, there was also Andromeda Tonks, who had been disowned by the Blacks and was definitely not going to be hosting any Yule Balls for anyone.

"Are Muggleborns ever invited?" Hermione asked, though it was clear that she only asked to satisfy her thirst for information and not because she had any desire to spend more time than necessary with a bunch of snooty Purebloods.

Hannah shook her head. "Not as long as it's a Black or a Malfoy hosting it."

Hadria chuckled, "Perhaps I could convince Narcissa to invite you next time. She's the main host, right?"

" _Narcissa?_ " Terry echoed, doing a remarkable goldfish impression. Hannah laughed.

"That's still sounds like a bit of a stretch," said Neville. "Even if you're on first-name basis with her. Malfoy will never allow it."

"Unless," Hannah piped in. "Unless the rumours about Lady Malfoy being the true head of the Malfoy household are true."

"I don't  _want_  to attend a Malfoy party!" Hermione was aghast. "And for goodness sake, Hadria, don't get me an invitation. I wouldn't want to offend anyone by rejecting it."

"Grandmother had no such qualms," said Neville ruefully. "I heard she burned the letter the first time our family got an invitation from the Malfoys after the war. Of course, we've never been invited again."

"Yeah, one question?" Everyone turned to look at Terry who was looking past them with a funny expression, like he wanted to laugh but wasn't quite sure if it was appropriate. "Why is Malfoy wringing his hands outside our compartment?"

"Oh, that's because I made him think I was upset," Hadria said blithely. Hermione groaned while Neville seemed to brighten up.

"What did you do this time?" he asked, at the same time as Terry who questioned, "Is this a normal occurrence?"

Hermione harrumphed, "It's not a normal occurrence; it's a Hadria occurrence-there's a difference."

Hadria grinned sheepishly which made Hermione roll her eyes. "Draco was surprised I was invited. Apparently, his mother didn't inform him she had invited me."

"I would've expected him to invite you personally, what with you being part of the clique and all," said Terry.

"Was it the Jarvey or something else?" Neville said, leaning over his plant to rest his elbows on his knees. 'Jarvey?' Terry mouthed to Hannah who shrugged.

"I'm not sure," Hadria said, still smiling. "Might be a combination of things."

"Are we just going to ignore him then?" asked Hannah. "Because he's still outside the compartment looking like you stole his pet Crup."

"No, if Hadria had stolen his pet Crup, he'd have sulked and threatened to tell his father—"

"Which wouldn't work," Neville added.

"Which wouldn't work," Hermione agreed. "A more appropriate description would be 'looking like Hadria had made him swear an Unbreakable Vow to keep Snag with him till death do them part'."

Neville laughed. "Where is Snag, anyway?"

"Sleeping in Draco's trunk. Narcissa wanted to meet him, you see," Hadria admitted.

Terry's eyes widened. "Does Malfoy know?" Hadria coughed, which was all the answer they needed.

Hannah nodded to herself, "I said she's as Slytherin as the Weasley twins and still stand by that claim."

* * *

It took Draco Malfoy another drawn out minute before he decided to knock on the door of the compartment, which Hermione thought was exceedingly polite for him.

"Oh, let's just let him in, shall we?" said Hannah and moved to slide open the door.

The moment the Malfoy scion realizes he's been given audience, his face pales and smoothens out (which is always a considerable feat), and his back straightens. Hadria notes that his eyes are still darting and nervous, something Draco would have to correct if he wishes to do a perfect impersonation of his father.

"Potter," he greeted formally.

"Potter?" Hadria echoed, suddenly looking a little lost. "You never call me Potter unless—are you mad at me? Is this because I came here and left you at the mercy of Pansy? Really sorry about that, but Pansy was scary. I mean, what's wrong with my robes? It's not like Gerwald would let me wear anything that wasn't up to a certain standard anyway. You don't need to worry about me turning up in t-shirt and jeans or something. I won't embarrass you, I swear!"

Draco blinked owlishly at her, suddenly reminding her of Snag the first time the Jarvey accidentally ate a sherry-flavoured jelly bean.

"Congratulations," Terry laughed. "You've broken Malfoy."

"You're terrible," said Hermione with a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry?" Hadria tried again. "Draco?"

Said Slytherin came back to life with rose-hued colour. "I was going to apologize to you!"

"Oh my, whatever for?" asked Hadria, sounding so genuinely confused that it probably would have thrown Draco off again if not for the sheepish grin she wore.

"For—Well—Never mind!"

Hadria laughed, then sat up suddenly. "Hey, I've another idea!"

* * *

By the time the train got to King's Cross, Pansy and Blaise had both been subjected to a very dramatic lecture full of Looks-of-Disappointment about how they should be ashamed of themselves because she was ashamed of them and shame on them— _how could they make poor Draco try to apologize all by himself when it was obvious he was horrible at those sort of things and what kind of friends were they?!_

Blaise took it all in stride but Pansy kept sputtering until Draco finally dropped his own wounded-and-close-to-tears act to say, "Pansy, did your mother never teach you that ladies do not sputter?"

The Slytherins spilled out of the train laughing at one another.

Then Hadria caught sight of a tall figure with a head of gold and squealed, all but flying as she tore past everyone else until she had tackled Gellert who would have taken a tumble if he hadn't been prepared for an armful of girl.

"Gerwald! Did you miss me? Did you?"

Gellert looked like he'd rather dress up in Dumbledore's robes than admit he'd missed her in front of every other Wizarding family present at the train station.

"Your trunks?" he said instead.

"Shrunken, in my pockets. And I freed Holly the moment the train stopped."

"Are those your friends?"

Hadria turned to see Blaise waving at her from faraway. A stunning woman with dark bronze skin and thick black curls stood beside him dressed in turquoise and gold. The woman smiled when Hadria waved back, and she found herself looking back at Gellert, who was regarding the Zabini pair with a smirk.

"That's Blaise," Hadria said, hoping Pansy was wrong about Gellert. She looked further into the crowd and near Blaise was the Malfoy family, distinct with their pale blonde hair. "And that's Draco with his parents." Draco smiled and nodded at her but did not wave, probably because Malfoys don't wave. Pansy was nowhere in sight now, and Neville (whose grandmother's choice in clothing also made them stand out) was too far to make eye contact.

"Well, you'll be seeing them again at the Malfoy's Yule celebration," said Gellert. "Now come along. There's a hellhound waiting for you at home."

* * *

Scáth was Hadria's best confidant. He knew everything there was to know about Hadria and probably more. Which meant that she hoped he would have some idea on what to do about any problem she might possibly have, from paranoid Slytherins to gift ideas. Not that he was very helpful most of the time. In fact, the Grim preferred to laugh at her misery.

"Come on," said Hadria, shaking the passive Grim until his tongue lolled. "You've got to have some idea!"

The Grim continued giving her the most irritating grin she'd ever seen on a canid, and that included all the other expressions she had seen Padfoot wear before.

* * *

"As much as I dislike your Headmaster," said Gellert. Hadria thought dislike was putting it mildly. "I highly doubt he's out to kill you on purpose." Hadria also noted that her guardian believed her Headmaster capable of killing her by accident.

"Try telling that to the entire Slytherin house," Hadria moaned and emptied an entire jug of blueberry syrup over her pancakes and cream, much to the horror of Gellert.

"Have you gone through your presents yet?" Gellert said, abruptly looking away from her questionable breakfast to the pile under their— "Hadria, why is it snowing indoors?!"

* * *

Hadria would always be glad that not only was she rich, but she was also the Girl-Who-Lived. It certainly helped her to get her gifts Owl-ordered, gift-wrapped and delivered all in one night. Otherwise she wasn't sure if she'd be able to turn up at Malfoy Manor considering the gifts she received from everyone.

There was a very thick and thorough research book on ghost animals from Hermione which looked like it might have come from some dubious bookstore in Knockturn Alley. Neville gave her a whole box of tiny mandrake seedlings (Hadria laughed when she saw them, and hoped Neville would enjoy his Barometz seed. His present was one of the few she had managed to get via Scáth).

There were two boxes from Draco. One of them contained a black dragon-hide cuff with a copper chimera design, and a card that wished her Blessed Yule, and a description of the cuff which apparently had similar properties to Foe-glass and could come alive and bite a stranger who grabs her arm when worn. The second box had holes in it and when unwrapped, revealed an unconscious Jarvey.

From Pansy came a decorative hair pin made of pale gold twisted into the shape of a nine-headed dragon with a straight lance-like tail. And from Blaise came a bronze penannular brooch with a serpentine ring which Hadria was glad to receive for this sort of brooches were the best things to use when fastening a cloak that was actually a living thing, and while she already had a few, it was always good to have more.

Surprisingly, there was also a box of chocolates from Theodore Nott, the only Slytherin to give her something that wasn't an accessory. The Weasley twins gave her food too, but Hadria decided to eat them only when she had fed some to Snag.

Finally, there were only two presents left for her—one from Gellert, and one from an unknown sender that Hadria knew to be Dumbledore. She opened Gellert's, which was a dark green scarf with a scaly pattern that made it look remarkably like a snake. One end of the scarf even had a realistic imitation of a snake's head while the other end tapered off into a tail. Hadria tugged at the red-satin tongue with much fascination, and poked at the fake fangs of the snake.

"This is wicked," Hadria breathed and Gellert chuckled from where he stood at the doorway.

"Well, open the last one," he said. "I've already checked it for curses and the like."

She opened it, and out spilled a puddle of silk that shimmered like a mirage in a desert. Hadria could almost feel the silence in the room.

"Gerwald?" She called out, not turning around as she bundled up the Cloak. "You've stopped breathing." Then she shoved her face into it and breathed in the familiar magic she could sense from it, seeping through her skin. She'd forgotten how much she missed the Cloak.

There was a set of footsteps and a rustle of paper.

"I recognize this handwriting," Gellert said, his voice flat. Hadria looked up abruptly at the change in his aura from reverent wonder to cold fury.

"So?"

Gellert turned to look at her, his face like a deity sculpted in marble by the fine artists of old. "Never mind." Hadria thought it didn't look like 'never mind,' but decided not to push it. She'd just ask Scáth later.

"Uh, the last box belongs to you, Gerwald," she said in an attempt to change the subject away from whatever Hallow-related grievances Gellert evidently had with Dumbledore.

Gellert's face softened into something more human, and he sat down on the floor beside her to take the box wrapped in leaf-like paper.

"This isn't going to be another magical cake, is it?" he asked tentatively. She had Owl-ed him a birthday cake the month before, and had to charm it not to get damaged during the flight. Unfortunately, the cake had refused to let him cut it or even touch it until he sent her an Owl requesting for the deactivation word which she had forgotten to include in the birthday card.

"Nope, no cake," said Hadria as he unwrapped it, and took off its lid. He stared.

"Hadria, what's this for?" Gellert said as he took out another smaller box out of the first. It was a black box with a clasp in the shape of two entwined ouroboros. He ran a thumb over the serpents and one of them released its tail to bite him.

"What  _is_  this for?!" He repeated again, dropping the box into his lap. The metallic snakes slithered out of their knot and along the sides of the lid, along the box to open with a quiet hiss. Within the box was yet another box—well, cube, really, since it did not have a lid. This one looked like a gleaming transparent block of ice that Gellert was sure was not made of glass but rather some sort of crystal.

He turned the cube around, watched as the thing caught the light and threw glowing streaks of rainbow upon any nearby surface.

Gellert tilted his head to look at Hadria questioningly. "What is my gift?"

Hadria simply smiled, "Why, the box and the cube of course."

And while it was rather obvious what the box could be used for, he never did find out what the cube was supposed to do.

* * *

The Apparition Point was a spot just beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor, with neatly-trimmed hedges towering over them on either side that were not able to block the view of a grandiose mansion ahead. They could hear a fountain in the distance, and Hadria knew that there were sprawling gardens behind the tall hedges where white peacocks roamed. Hadria also knew that the Malfoys could have easily arranged for them to Floo in, but of course they had to make sure that their guests arrived at the right location for the maximum effect of showing off their class and wealth.

There must have been a charm set on the Apparition Point because not a few seconds after they had straightened their robes, a House-Elf appeared in front of them with a pop.

Hadria stared at the spindly creature with large eyes and bat-like ears. The creature stared back, expression slowly changing from one of uncomfortable politeness to one of awe and wonder and—

"Hadria Potter! So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, miss! Such an honour it is!"

Gellert cleared his throat, drawing the elf's attention to him. "And you must be Gerwald Grinsen! Hadria Potter's great and wonderful guardian! An honour to meet you too, sir!"

Gellert turned to his ward, who shrugged, bright green eyes shining with amusement. Then she opened her mouth, and he knew it was about to get worse.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Dobby," she said with a curtsy. "Thank you!"

Later, Gellert would stand at the side and try to blend in with his surroundings as Hadria shuffled sheepishly in front of the Malfoy family who were looking from their guest to their hysterical House-Elf.

Lucius Malfoy, who was dressed in an impeccable set of black and silver robes, had a stone-cold face that was on its way to being cracked by the minute twitching beneath his eye. Narcissa Malfoy, in a layered dress of delicate blue, had pale grey eyes that twinkled like Dumbledore's. And the youngest Malfoy, who wore a winter-coloured set of robes—which made his skin and hair look even paler than they usually were—was doing his best to imitate his father, and failing.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm him, I swear!" Hadria was saying most earnestly.

"It's just an elf," was the elder Malfoy's curt reply. "Next time, do refrain from exchanging unnecessary niceties with it."

And then Hadria was nodding eagerly and saying that she would, and that she couldn't help it, that her guardian had taught her to be polite and she didn't realize that was wrong. Of course, Lucius was then forced to tell her that no, being polite was not wrong, but it was not something required for an elf. It was then that the younger Malfoy interrupted loudly with a, "I just remembered, Pansy wanted to know the moment you arrived. I believe she would like to have a look at you before you meet the other guests."

Gellert remained behind, when Hadria was practically manhandled out of the room. Narcissa was openly smiling affectionately now, but Lucius's cold look remained.

"Oh, let them be," said Narcissa to her husband when he looked like he might begin commenting on his son's abrupt behaviour. Meanwhile, Gellert wondered what Hadria might have said if her friend had not removed her from the conversation in time.

Hadria knew what she might have said. There were, in fact, a great deal of things she could have said that would no doubt caused things to crash and burn without a good Obliviate on everyone at the scene. There were also things she could have said that would have caused Lucius Malfoy to regard her with even more distaste than he had in her past life. However, she did not say any of those things, and she did not know which of those things she might have accidentally said if Draco had not dragged her away to get her outfit critiqued.

And Draco said, "Please try not to ignite a feud between our families for the rest of this evening." Which went to say how well he knew half of her.

Then Pansy was there, in one of the antechambers to the drawing-room-turned-ballroom, along with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle.

"I see you're wearing our gifts," said Pansy approvingly, and of course the they must have shopped for their gifts for her together, likely from the same shop too, since they were all Slytherin-themed accessories.

"Yeah, they're perfect," Hadria beamed happily. Blaise laughed and turned to Pansy.

"Did her thank-you note to you include a three-feet-long essay?"

"Mine was  _four_ -feet-long," announced Draco from behind her. Hadria thought he looked remarkably like his family's white peacocks at that moment.

Pansy sniffed haughtily. "Well, I got a Howler. Except it had less howling and more excited deluges of praise and adoration."

"We didn't get anything!" Goyle protested, and Draco laughed. "But you didn't get her anything!"

Blaise glanced at Hadria who was watching it all with much bemusement.

"I didn't intend for it to turn into a Who-Hadria-is-More-Pleased-With competition, I swear," he said, then gave his gift—the pen-annular brooch—a second glance. "Is that the cloak you wore for Halloween?"

Hadria nodded. She was wearing Noh again, because she felt his abyssal blackness would go well with the rest of her outfit. Blaise sidled up to her, until their shoulders were touching.

"How is your dress darker than my robes?" he demanded, for his robes were also black, but her black dress had been charmed as best as Hadria could to match the colour of her Lethifold.

"It's called  _magic_ , Zabini," Hadria drawled in her best imitation of their pale friend. They looked over to see Draco and Pansy comparing the gifts they had gotten from Hadria—Draco had a miniature dragon made of matchstick-turned-silver that Hadria had finally learnt how to animate, and Pansy had gotten a strange necklace with a white-flower-pendant that would only bloom if danger were near her, thereupon releasing stun-gas that only the wearer of the amulet would be immune to.

"Woven or casted?" Blaise asked.

"Casted. It'll probably wear off by midnight," Hadria giggled, but Blaise had never read Cinderella, so he didn't get the joke. "What time does the celebration actually start?"

"The festivities begin at seven," said Blaise, and did a Time-check. "Wilt thou giveth me the honour of leading thee to the feast?" And he extended out the crook of his arm.

Hadria laughed and slid her arm through, and they went like this, a pair of dark-haired dark-robed children.

"You know, Pansy never did comment on the suitability of my outfit," she commented later on, when they stepped into the drawing room. Hadria had darker memories of this place, but now, it has been transformed into a place of shining lights and colourful magic. Witches and wizards gathered at the corners of the room, where white-clothed tables carried trays of light food and drinks. Ethereal music played from an unknown source and wove its way through the crowd.

"Oh, if she had disapproved, she would have said so the moment she saw you," Blaise told her. "Say, isn't that your guardian?"

Hadria looked over to where Gellert was sending them glares, even as he conversed with another witch that looked like she could be Daphne's mother.

"What have you done to make him look like that?"

Hadria laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about him. The last time I saw him glare like that was when Professor Snape got me interested in Potion-making."

Now Blaise was not unintelligent; he soon put two and two together and began laughing too. Then he leaned in close, with a cat-like grin, until he was a breath away from her ear. "What's the colour of his face now?"

"Blaise!" She smacked his head and he straightened with a chuckle. Then she turned to look back at Gellert whose face had not changed colour—his face never really did, anyway—but his eyes… They were stormy.

"How are you going to get a boyfriend like this?" Blaise wondered.

"I'm eleven!"

Blaise ignored her and continued to observe her guardian with open fascination. "Does he react this way to Draco too?"

"No… Draco's too…" she made some hand gestures. "… um…"

"Immature?"

_Yes_ , Hadria thought. He often seemed like a child playing, and failing, at being like his father, who was, admittedly, like many adults she knew, not quite as mature as he liked to think he was. In fact, in her past life, he never really did seem to grow up until the year he received that mission from Voldemort.

Blaise on the other hand, regardless of what went on in his head (though it wasn't as if anyone actually knew what went on in there), always seemed in control, certainly less emotional, and more… Slytherin-material. Which probably made him more of a 'threat' in Gellert's eyes.

It was ridiculous.

Anyway, Hadria wasn't interested in romantic relationships… yet. She wasn't sure she ever would (she had been single until her death in her previous life, after all) but she felt if she did get attached, she sure as hell wouldn't go for the son of the infamous Black Widow.

Later on, Pansy and Draco found Hadria introducing Blaise to treacle-tart coated in melted chocolate from the chocolate fondue topped dollops of ice-cream topped with assorted syrups. Surprisingly, none of the other guests seemed to be giving them a second glance.

"No one cares if I make my own master-dessert out of the available options," said Hadria. "It's called being resourceful, a Slytherin trait."

"Have you even eaten dinner, yet?" Pansy demanded as she stared at the 'master-dessert' as if it personally offended her. Perhaps it did, with the amount of sugar and fats it must contain.

"This  _is_  my dinner," Hadria replied empathetically, and her grin only faltered when a shadow fell over her. She turned and gave Gellert a sheepish smile. "Hey. Nice party, eh?"

Gellert narrowed his eyes and Hadria turned to introduce her friends properly (anything to distract him from—)

"Oh," said Pansy.

"Oh?" Draco said, incredulous, even as Pansy's eyes lit up and a strange smile took over her face.

"Oh," Blaise grinned and Hadria felt the sudden urge to gag.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy did not like them.

He didn't like Hadria Potter, who was a brat at her best and the only thing she had going for her was her Girl-Who-Lived status and the fact that she was a Slytherin. It was because of her that his son was slipping back into his childish behaviour, and it was because of her that the blasted Jarvey had nearly wrecked his study, and it was because of her that his wife was now enamoured by a child that was not theirs.

He didn't like Gerwald Grinsen, who was incorrigibly charming and smug and utterly unaffected by the wealth and status of their family. At least the girl had the decency to look impressed by their Manor—it was almost disgusting, really, it was like having a Mudblood ogle at their architecture—but the man with an unknown last name had acted like  _he_  was richer, wealthier, more influential. And as if that wasn't enough, dear Narcissa had been honest when she said, "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face." And then there was the flirting. And the knowing smirk in the blasted half-blood's eyes that twinkled like Dumbledore's.

But Narcissa liked them. And Draco liked them. And now, even the cursed half-mad elf liked them.

Which meant that he could foresee interacting with them again and again in the future, far more often than he would like, because Narcissa and he usually agreed on families they wanted to avoid, and they would take measures on how best to limit interaction—polite or otherwise— with these families. But no, not this time. This time, his only hope was for the charmer to make a misstep with Lady Zabini, and even then, his wife would probably find a way to adopt the Potter girl…

Lucius took a sip out of the wine glass in his hand. He had just managed to manoeuvre his way out of a conversation with some Spanish friend of Narcissa's, and was now free to search for his dear old friend.

Unfortunately, he found Severus—who had only just arrived—having a conversation with the Potter brat. He didn't think he had ever seen his friend  _converse_  with a student outside school before, except for Draco. Insult, yes. Reprimand, yes. But a discussion about the edible fruits of the nightshade family and how that may help in creating a poison that was selective in its toxicity?

He turned away from the terrible sight, only to see Grinsen chatting amicably with a bronze-skinned woman who was dressed in stunning sunset-colours. Grinsen did not look like a man who had just been touched by an angel, and Lady Zabini did not look like a panther toying with her prey. In fact, as he edged closer to them, horror of all horrors—

"Of course, Luci was absolutely smitten with her. She was the jewel of the ball, after all, and he—Oh, there you are! I was just telling Gerwald about our youth! Would you like to join us? I'm sure it will be lovely to hear your side of the story."

And later when he excused himself to greet another guest, he heard her say, irritably loud enough for him to catch, "He's terribly easy to fluster when Narcissa isn't around, you know. It's why I always attend these things."

* * *

The Malfoy's Yule celebration was one of the most interesting and wonderful things Hadria had experienced that year, if only because she had never attended one before. There were certainly a lot less talking to posh people in fancy dress robes than she expected, unless one were to count her Slytherin year mates. It was simple, really, the kids stuck around with the kids, while the adults did this thing where they boasted about their kids, their accomplishments, their ancestry, and the like. Except for Gellert, whom she was sure was also actively dazzling every other person he deemed interesting—which apparently meant that Mr. Malfoy wasn't as interesting as his wife, and from what she could tell, Hadria was also sure that if Gellert hadn't been holding a grudge against her Potions Professor, he'd probably try and charm the guy into laughing at some joke too. Which would be a sight to see-Professor Snape laughing? She hopes she'll have a good camera when or if this actually comes to pass.

Most of their House had attended the celebration with their families and there were a few students-and-family from other Houses too, like Hannah, who had initially been very apprehensive about joining her and her Slytherin friends. It probably didn't help that Pansy wrinkling up her face like a pug, though it hadn't been directed at Hannah but another girl—who Hadria had never seen before—standing faraway with her father. (Which was actually a lot more pleasant to witness than her disturbing fangirl-esque fascination with Gellert).

Then there was the peacock incident, where all of the Manor's white peacocks somehow managed to find their way into the building and kept flocking towards anyone wearing white, which included Draco, Daphne, and a few other guests. Mr. Malfoy was understandably rather… furious about the whole thing, and Draco wisely chose not to tell his father who the culprit of the prank was.

So, when Hadria got a letter from the Weasley twins after the celebration, she was practically floating.

The twins had discovered the Mirror of Erised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm know I've put it out there that I'm pairing Hadria up with Tom, but I realise I should include a disclaimer here.
> 
> First, romance will not be in any way a main plot for either Hadria or anyone else.
> 
> Second, I have never written romance before. (Well I haven't really written humour before either but it seems to turn out fine so we can hope) I have also never experienced any romance of any sort nor had any crush on anyone so don't expect too much because anything I'll write in this line will be what I observe from friends/family and those teen romance novels that are full of many things I'm going to try and avoid here. (Yes, I'm also ignoring the fact that Tom totally suits the whole dark and broody and dangerous male lead).
> 
> So yeah, just saying. Don't wanna get your hopes too high and all.


End file.
